Static
by PotionPerfectionist
Summary: Seven years after the second wizarding war, Severus Snape is confined to a bed, paralyzed from the neck down. A strange healer comes to visit him, offering a chance at regaining mobility through an experimental procedure.
1. Chapter 1

_"The hand holding Harry thudded to the floor, and Snape moved no more." - J.K. Rowling_

Seven years after the fact, the portrait of Severus Snape stood looming over Headmistress McGonagall in smug satisfaction. His sacrifices and accomplishments had been taken note of, and the wizarding world seemed finally to be picking up the remnant litter of a generation broken by war and distress. A new status quo settled gently into place. No more panicked letters. No more students endangered by a hidden dictator. No more needless slaughter. Granted, the stern Scotswoman still had to spend a great deal of time placating members of the Ministry of Magic whenever they should poke their noses into businesses of the academic leaders, but she hardly hoped for more excitement or stress than that provided; not at her age.

"It is half-eight, Minerva." the portrait commented in a dull tone.

"I am well aware of the time, thank you, Severus." she replied crisply, not even sparing a glance from the school budget she was looking over.

A few moments of silence drifted heavy in the office before the portrait began to shift uncomfortably in place. He smoothed the sleeves of his robes, shifting the paint until it leveled more evenly in the flickering candle light. Old habits of a meticulous man would die hard. The ticking of an ancient grandfather clock beat a metronome to the passage of time with the soft rustle of Professor McGonagall's papers as the only interruption. The man quietly cleared his throat to interject once more.

"You intend… not to go this time, I surmise?" Severus inquired, a touch more hesitant than he normally might have been.

"I intend to finish my budgeting, which is due in the morning." Minerva frowned, glaring up at him over the rims of her spectacles. "What exactly do you think is going to change, may I ask? I'm going to sit at the bedside for twenty minutes with barely a word of response, then we'll play a game of chess, then you'll ask me for a _Life Snuffing Elixir_ , to which I will refuse and bid you goodnight. It doesn't alter by more than a little, and if you ask me, Severus, _present_ you would rather stew in his thoughts than spend time with me. I've wanted to visit. You think there is no part of me that misses you? Of course I do. But you… there is none of _you_ left in that body at Saint Mungo's. You've given up entirely. It pains me to see the way you've become, and I cannot bear to handle it tonight. I've been bi-weekly for seven years with little exception. A need a break. I expect you won't even realize I've missed it."

Perhaps it was a bit more direct and raw than she had intended, but the woman had reached a breaking point in watching a friend and colleague waste away in such a manner. At first, she'd made every effort to see him when Harry divulged what he'd come to find in the Pensive. She felt a heavy shame for harboring such dark thoughts against him towards the end of the war when they'd previously enjoyed each other's company and friendly rivalries. But now she felt only a mixture of pity and anger. When coupled with the stresses of running Hogwarts, her heart could only handle so much disappointment. Professor Snape's body may have survived the atrocious snake bite in a manner of speaking, but his mind was a different story.

A minute change in expression was the only indication that the portrait had absorbed the Headmistress' words. Severus opened his mouth as if to say something, but swallowed his intentions and closed without another word. He stood in place, quietly wringing his hands, then walked away from the borders of his painting to pace elsewhere in the castle.

"You'll have to forgive him. He's always been a very lonely man, Minerva. Even I didn't realize the depth of his aches for a number of years. Too many, in fact. I'm sure if he truly understood the way his physical self was behaving, he would stop asking you to go." the soft voice of another portrait remarked at Severus' departure.

"Oh, Albus. I know. This is unfortunate timing, that's all. I'm exhausted." Minerva sighed, removing her glasses to lightly massage her weary eyes. "Do apologize for me when you see him, won't you? I think I'll retire to my quarters for the evening and finish up there. Less distractions, you understand."

"More than you might think." Dumbledore chuckled quietly. "But you have been doing quite the phenomenal job this entire time. Good night, Minerva."


	2. Chapter 2

One by one, the overhead lamps began to flicker out in the outer corridors, then the wards themselves save for a single point of illumination for each section. Visiting hours had long since come to their conclusion. Severus Snape no longer bothered to follow the time via hours and minutes. It was sleeping or not sleeping. The only point of punctuation in his repetitive routine were the promised visits of a very few, and lately they had become lessened to the point of nearly none at all. A humorless little smile twitched one corner of his thin lips. Somehow he always remembered which days were meant for visitation, and while it might have seemed as if the man would rather bask in his own solitude, he truthfully missed the sparse conversations when they were absent.

Seven years wasting away in the magical creature damage ward, paralyzed from the neck down, of course he'd sunk into such a suffocating depression. This was it. This was all that he had. His independence had been thoroughly stripped away along with his dignity. He saw no point in community time, or group sessions with other patients, or being pushed around the small garden. Severus no longer carried a purpose, and was thus little more than a hollow sham of the man he used to be. He could hardly blame anyone for seeking out other activities.

With a withering sigh, Severus tilted his head side to side, then all the way back against his pillow. It did little to shift the tangled black swathes of hair away from his face, but there was little else he could do to abate the irritation. He tried blowing puffs of air to move the last of it to no avail. A short debate within his own mind left him with the full realization that any calls to the healer assistants would go unanswered at least for the next few hours as they made rounds in the other wards. As such, he remained silent. The only noises came from the two other patients bound to beds. One elderly woman snored quietly, which was the only time one might catch a noise from her. The other was a young man who muttered incessantly about his conspiracy theories concerning teacups regardless of whether or not he held any sort of consciousness. Soft dings from the magically synced monitors indicated twice per minute if a patient's heart still beat. Six dings per minute for this room. It used to be ten, he recalled. Two young women had passed away in the last year, not that either of them had much to add to the mixture of sound apart from confused crying at the daily revelation that neither of them could move or even breathe on their own. Muffled crying in oxygen bubble masks. That's all. Severus hadn't even known their names. Sometimes he shared their panic on nights when he would wake suddenly, having forgotten the year, but this was chalked up to group hysteria and did not persist more than a moment or two. Merlin's balls, he hated it.

Shifting papers and the sharp clack of a stiff-heeled pair of shoes broke into the man's thoughts like a hard slap in the face. This was not routine. Why would someone come through this time of night? Vitals of patients were steady, no alarms had gone off, and not a single scream for help had been uttered. Even so, the healers wore soft soled shoes so as not to disturb anyone. Was this an intruder? Severus knit his dark brows and waited, deciding ultimately to feign sleep until he'd gathered more information. As predicted, the shoes made a sharp turn and entered, slowing to pace before each bed in the room.

" _Must_ you visit so late? Sir… _Sir Padmoore, I'm speaking to you_." the voice of healing assistant, Thelma Hobgood hissed.

"Ah, yes. I was ignoring you, forgive me." came the amused response. "This one is… too vocal; not nearly coherent enough I would imagine. The old woman's file says she's a mute? That won't do, either. I need conversation to a point. Oh. Oh, oh… yes. This one. It says he used to be a Death Eater? My… goodness. Wrap him up, won't you, Velma? I'll take him to go."

"They aren't cuts of meat, you know. They're still people who must give consent. And it's _Thelma_." the assistant huffed.

Severus creaked open an eye just enough to see a handsome fellow with wavy black hair cropped above his shoulders and fashioned to perfection. His teeth stood dazzling white in the dimly lit room, and from what could be gleaned in the lack of light it seemed that the fellow was quite handsome. Thelma's resolve seemed to melt somewhat when the stranger drew two fingers to her chin and offered her a winning little pout. A cane twirled idly in his opposite hand.

"Certainly. You've got me cornered on that one, and I don't think I could bear to suffer your disappointment. I will ask for consent… Thelma."

Severus rolled his eyes and reclosed completely. He'd been under the assumption that the man, this Sir Padmoore or whatever it was, would return in the morning for consent of whatever nonsense he was selling. No such luck. He felt the sharp crack of a cane against his shins. The bedridden man let out a shocked yelp of pain and snapped off a few choice obscenities as the nursing assistant gasped and dashed out to find security.

"Oh, good! You're awake, Mr. Snape!" he exclaimed brightly, unlocking the bed from its docking in the wall. "You and I… are going to have a little talk. Let's go somewhere more private, shall we?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you, you bloody lunatic!" Severus growled, still stinging mightily from the swat to his legs.

"Aha! You have spirit. I like that. Tell me, though, exactly how are you planning to keep me from wheeling you away? Are you going to get out of that bed and give me a good throttling?" Sir Padmoore cooed softly. "Oh, I'm sure you'd love to. Well, what if I told you that it is entirely possible?"

"What the hell are you babbling about?!" the paralyzed man demanded.

The visitor laughed quietly and wheeled the bed along the darkened corridors until he'd found that particular floor's laundry room. The bed was pushed inside, and the door was locked. With a satisfied grin, Sir Padmoore took a seat on an overturned bucket and stared back at Severus for a long moment before continuing. He spoke slowly, embellishing often with dramatic sighs and would-be charming smirks.

"You're special, you know that? Not everyone who's lost the use of their limbs can still feel in regards to tactile sensation. I'm a healer, you know. I have my very own practice for special cases, and as I've mentioned, you are special. My partner and I… well… we take in wizards and witches who are trying to regain their lives. Isn't that exciting?" Sir Padmoore inquired, only receiving a deadpan glare in response. "I'm sure you're wondering how. Well! Perhaps when you were young, you recall getting your first taste of magic? It was raw, spontaneous, but most importantly… wandless. Some people continue to perfect it over the course of their lives, but most become slaves to their wands and all the untapped potential lies dormant for the rest of their conventional, boring lives."

"I'm sure you have a point, but it's taking you rather a long time to come to it." Severus grumbled, having long since given up on being able to preform any sort of magic at all.

"I like that. A man who cuts to the heart of things. My business is pain, Mr. Snape. Pain." he smiled. "If you accidentally touch a hot surface under normal circumstances, you flinch away. At the moment, you can't do that. I could light you on fire and toast marshmallows over your flesh without your moving a muscle to oppose me. But by introducing smaller amounts of pain in a fixed area over a prolonged period of time, my patients have reignited their wandless abilities and use it to puppet their bodies to bend to their will. In three months, they're walking. In six, they can no longer tell the difference between their current and previous lives in regards to moving about. It's second nature. I wonder if you would care to become a part of this study?"

A pregnant pause ensued as Severus mulled over the sparse information. He was no stranger to pain. In fact, his tolerance for it was remarkably high. Anticipations for change were low, however, and he shook his head in annoyance.

"I suppose you expect me to believe this? I would need to see statistics, a research agenda, any input that might sway my decision. I am not exactly a person who holds much hope for improvements on my life." he droned.

"My dear man. You are not a person. You are a number." Sir Padmoore laughed. "I don't offer false hope to anyone. My treatments work, but not every wizard has the stomach to face them. You would be one of many in my collection. The fact that it gives the opportunity to improve your life is a byproduct of sorts in the bigger picture. When my treatment is officially approved by the Ministry of Magic, I will become a very rich man, living comfortably off of my ideas. I pick and choose what I like to do. Always have. It's more fun that way. This is mutually beneficial, Mr. Snape. All you have to do… is _consent_."


	3. Chapter 3

" _Of course_ I told him to bugger off. What else was I supposed to do?" Severus snapped irritably. "Agree to a dangerous treatment from a random stranger and be carted off to spend the rest of my life in a torture chamber? That is essentially what it is. I've seen no evidence to the contrary, Minerva. No testimonies, no statistics, nothing. As much as it turns my stomach to stay in this bed, I'm not about to agree to this nonsense. It is a fool's errand."

Overcome by her nagging conscience, Minerva McGonagall had responded to the owl which had informed her of the alarming situation from a few nights' past. She had half expected a curious message as to her whereabouts from the head healer, but certainly not an alert concerning a kidnapping attempt. Then again, as much as it tasked her to admit it, the event had caused her former colleague to be much more vocal than he normally would have been. It was refreshing to see him so passionate in conversation, even if he was infuriated. She pursed her lips to keep a small smile from drifting to the surface. It seemed as though his previous begging for a potion to quietly expire in his sleep had only been a ploy for attention. Severus did not wish to die at all. If she had to guess, the man was terrified of facing his eternity. It had taken a good scaring to lay his cards out on the table, but the mind within his immobile body was still flickering and vibrant after all.

"I would have done the same thing, given that he came about in the middle of the night like a common prowler. However," she paused to place her teacup on the nightstand and fetch a dossier out of her bag. "…I managed to locate some literature on his practice. It seems that Sir Padmoore truly is who he claims to be. His studies are privately funded. By whom, I've no idea, but his patient testimonies sing his praises. There are quite a few people who've dropped out of the experiments, but the people who stayed did regain full function of their limbs. Full function. It is not entirely specific on his methods other than a broad general use of pain. I expect it won't become public knowledge until the Ministry approves it on a larger scale than an experimental level."

Wide eyed, Severus whipped his head around to face her. Was this woman actually suggesting that he go through with such barbaric practices? Surely not! What person in their right mind would willingly put themselves on a slab to be experimented on? He clamped his eyes shut and fought the urge to lash out. Minerva was one of the very few people who still made the trek out to see him. The risk of losing anyone else outweighed his pride for the moment. His eyes slowly opened and dropped to his legs. Useless and frail. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever would if he kept on as he was. This was an undeniable fact. But…

"You're frightened." Minerva interrupted his thoughts. "You have every right to be. It is valid. I also know that sitting here day after day must be mind-numbing in the worst way. If you're still punishing yourself, Severus, you should know that your wasted potential will not abate your crimes. Life isn't meant for continuous suffering. It's not. I know you're miserable here."

"What you are suggesting that I do, then… is suffer more to end my suffering?" he asked dryly.

"I'm asking you to make an effort! To take steps to become well! To make better memories, Severus!" she argued, wavering close to tears. "You've paid your debts; no matter what _anyone_ says, no matter what _you_ say. I want you to be happy, if you can believe it. Not for Harry, not for Lily," Minerva pretended not to notice the pained flinch from Severus at the name. "…not for Dumbledore, or for me… for you. I want you to do this for _you_."

The elder woman drew a long breath and offered Severus a sip of tea with a trembling hand. He accepted, watching her carefully over the rim. As much as it seemed as though she were speaking to a brick wall, the Headmistress made one final attempt.

"In three months, you could be storming into my office, demanding to know how it had slipped my mind that we were supposed to visit an ancient tomb together to dispel a curse. Like we used to do over the summer holidays, you recall? I miss adventure, Severus. With you. I've always held you as an equal, and to be quite honest, I'm very bored without you at Hogwarts. But I can stand being bored. I'm busy. It can be monotonous, but I'm occupied. What I _can't_ stand is for an active mind to shut down and accept a fate that isn't cemented. Please."

Minerva was a persuasive woman, he had to give her that. A wry smile tilted his lips by a fractional amount. What was three months of pain as compared to years of repeated Cruciatus curses from the Dark Lord himself? Defeated, Severus at last gave a curt nod.

"Put the quill in my teeth and hold up the consent form. Please."


	4. Chapter 4

The lighting of Sir Padmoore's facility gave faint reminders of the dungeons of Hogwarts. Cold lamps spilled lifeless illumination in a short circumference every ten paces or so along the painted concrete walls: slate grey, gloomy, and with no artwork or decoration to speak of. Every once in a while, they would pass a door where one might hear faint sobbing or a shriek of terror. The attendant pushing Severus' wheelchair stared straight forward in an expressionless daze, while Sir Padmoore reveled in the silence with his ever present smile of satisfaction. The stately gentleman might as well have been strolling to his favorite music. A chill clung to the damp air. One thing that would always tug at the ex-professor's mind was how dearly he missed his many layered uniform. The patient attire of both Saint Mungo's and now this newer establishment hung loose and thin on his gaunt frame, offering next to no comfort from the bitter temperature.

After a silent exchange from carriage to carriage, a silent journey through the facility doors into a waiting lift, and a silent arrival at the new living quarters for Severus Snape, Sir Padmoore finally broke the stillness as though he'd been speaking the entire time. It was difficult to discern whether this healer was really this genuinely happy to execute his life's work, or if he was merely putting on a façade to misdirect his new patients. Or perhaps he was more than a bit loony.

" _And_ your new room." he sighed happily, leaning forward over his cane and sweeping an arm out to open an ominous looking metal door. "It's private, you see. You get your own space. Lovely change from being lumped in with the riff-raff, I'm sure!"

Severus turned his head one way and then the other, taking in the plain grey walls, the tiled white floor, the stiff reclining bed, and a black curtain covering a large expanse of wall. At least it had a window, he thought dismally. Having his own room would be interesting, though by now privacy had little meaning in his life. His host seemed to notice right away how he'd lingered his glance on the curtain and clapped a hand to his shoulder.

"The view! Oh, Mr. Snape, you simply _must_ take in the view. I daresay you have one of the best seats in the house! Come, wheel him closer, Mr. Finnley! If my watch is correct, we ought to be just in time for the show."

Sir Padmoore dragged the curtain open and drew in a deep breath, as though taking in fresh air after a summer rain. The window did not look out on a grassy field. No forests. Not even other buildings. It looked down on what appeared to be an operating table. Several windows, seemingly from other patient rooms, also shared the same view. Crowded around the table stood a variety of sinister looking tools. There were also three basic wands clipped to the wall for staff use as needed. Currently, there was another table being wheeled in with a stoic, dead eyed man laying atop in full acceptance of his fate. He was transferred from one to the other.

Severus furrowed his brow, studying the scene below him. The patient had his thin trousers rolled up to expose heavily bruised legs. Fresh lacerations stood out stark against the sun starved skin, peppered with welts of various size and severity. There were similar marks on the man's exposed forearms. Just as an attendant began to lift his wand, the patient began to cry silently, staring up almost pleadingly at the ceiling. He yelped out sharp cries of agony as the wand was applied as a burning implement, then used for whipping spells. Hexes for acid boils, slicing, freezing, and bite marks rained down on the poor person's limbs.

All the while, Severus maintained a neutral expression, only pulling an irritated scowl as Sir Padmoore gave his shoulder a sharp tap to point out how the patient's feet began to twitch, then were yanked up towards his torso. The legs kicked out in protest, flailing at the torturous attendant, who backed away by a few paces and continued with his work until a timer sounded overhead.

"There you have it. Marvelous thing, the human body." Sir Padmoore noted breathlessly. "Once he gets those muscles moving more regularly, he'll become accustomed to bending those spasms to his will, not just when he's prompted by outside stimuli."

"You have windows looking down onto this spectacle to frighten people, I suppose?" Severus inquired in a bored tone.

"Naturally, Mr. Snape, naturally. Fear is a phenomenal motivator, don't you find? Primes the fight or flight response beautifully. The more you want to get away, the sooner your body will work towards that goal. Surely you know that, considering your past _employment_? My, oh my what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must have put you through as a half-blooded servant to the old cause. At least now you can put all of that practice in endurance to the test, hm? Now! Get some sleep. You are going to have a busy… _busy_ day tomorrow." came the delighted response.

Without another word, Sir Padmoore turned and strode out of the room in a flourish of coat tails and whirling cane. The assistant who'd wheeled Severus in simply scooped his slight frame up bridal style and plopped him into the bed, yanking the covers over him and snapping the single lamp off to leave the immobile man in utter darkness as he departed.

The blanket was at least a small reprieve in the cold. Severus sat deep in thought, highly annoyed about being spoken down to in such a manner. It wasn't as though he could do anything about it in the present moment, of course, but should he indeed manage to make a recovery, retribution would be sure and swift. He began to indulge in rich fantasies of snatching away the designer cane and giving the grinning git a hearty swat to his elegant face. It was in this way that Severus drifted off to sleep with the barest of smiles touching his lips. It was the last time he would smile for many weeks to come.


	5. Chapter 5

Three hours. For three hours every day, Severus was allowed to have a light in his room. The only other time he would be allotted to see were moments that Sir Padmoore had agreed to take away his blindfold during treatment. The first week had no results whatsoever, and the sadistic healer had merely smiled and shrugged. It all boiled down to Severus' pain tolerance. There wasn't enough pain for the experiment to work. Steadily, day by day, they made it worse. Then it was decided that being kept mostly in darkness would help to snap his mind out of the defensive state and allow for fear to better penetrate his wall of endurance. A blindfold kept him from seeing where the assistants would strike, and thus he could not mentally prepare. Staggered breathing and grunted huffs were all he gave in return to the abusers.

"No matter how sturdy the bottle, if you shake a fizzy drink enough, eventually it will explode." Sir Padmoore chided, giving Severus' face an affectionate pat. "I rather thought you might scream for me. You'd take the pain, of course, but you ought to be screaming; moving. I know the nerves work. What is the problem?"

He sighed theatrically and flopped into a chair which had been brought in to sit opposite the paralyzed man in his bed. His stylish cane tapped regularly on the floor as he thought. A long silence ensued as he mulled over his rhetorical question and paged through Severus' steadily growing patient file. Regular hexes had not worked. The crutiatus curse had only gotten a movement of eleven centimeters. That was all. Every time they used it, his legs would tilt one way or the other and his feet would slide away by only the barest of amounts. There was a factor which they were missing.

"You are _quite_ the broken individual, Mr. Snape. Are you really so accustomed to pain that you don't even bother to shy away from it? Is that what your life has led you to? That is… remarkably sad. Really."

"One cannot break that which is already broken." Severus muttered hollowly, staring straight ahead. "This isn't going to work. We've tried for weeks with little more than a twitch. If you think I'm not trying, you are sorely mistaken."

Sir Padmoore only smiled wider. He chuckled quietly to himself. How amusing. As if this little setback was going to deter him! Oh, no. There was at least one more trick up his sleeve. He stood up and folded his hands delicately behind his back, leaning in for a barely perceptible whisper. Not close enough to risk bumping into battered skin, but far too close into Severus' personal bubble of space to be of comfort.

"Keep to that thought, won't you? I'd hoped it would come to this."

The healer walked out briskly, instructing an assistant to bring the sallow man a little something to help him sleep. What that could possibly mean was beyond Severus, but at the moment he would have welcomed a _Dreamless Sleep_ potion with open arms if he had been able. Sadly, that was not at all what the attendant administered. No, this was something acrid, stale, and strangely unrecognizable. She tipped his neck back and held his nose until he'd swallowed, then mercifully dabbed away the stinging leftover solution which dribbled over his stubbled chin. Demands for information were met with the usual silence. He'd begun to suspect that Sir Padmoore was the only person in the facility capable of speech. It wouldn't be unusual for vows of silence to be put in place while experiments were run, but that did not mean it was a comfortable thing to endure.

Dizziness overtook him within moments. The room became hazy, and he found himself needing to close his eyes to keep from vomiting the bland liquid meals he'd been force fed every day all over his lap. Experience had shown that if he became sick from treatment, nobody would be in any kind of a hurry to help him out of his soiled clothes. He'd gone as long as eighteen hours covered in the contents of his stomach with nary a second glance the last time it had happened. All for the greater good of his mentality, he'd been told.

He scoffed to himself, swallowing back bile that bubbled up into his throat. _Disorienting Draught_. That must have been what they'd poured into his mouth. How would Minerva have reacted if she'd known what he was going through? There were no visitors allowed. If she'd written to him, he wouldn't know it. Did Lucius know where he was? Draco? Narcissa? They'd made at least bi-monthly visits. Even Potter came to see him from time to time to sit awkwardly and attempt to pry old stories out of him. Though Horace Slughorn was far too busy to visit personally, he'd sent bottles of wine and fine chocolates on holidays. Who even knew his whereabouts? Hell, Severus _himself_ couldn't have told anyone the address. Or the time of day. Or the date. How very irritating. He'd been so detail oriented before losing his mobility.

He blinked. The light was gone. Severus turned and tilted to stretch his stiff neck out. From the fogginess in his head, it seemed as though he'd been dozing for hours, but surely he'd only just closed his eyes. As per the norm, as a way to occupy his mind, he squinted and searched for a small blue dot of light from a breathing monitor across the room. He counted the flickers. One every ten seconds. He held his breath briefly, causing the dot to flicker faster. It wasn't exactly amusing, but it was better for entertainment than nothing at all. Then, curiously, the dot blinked out as if someone had come to stand in front of it to block it from his view. He craned his neck to see what had happened, but he could discern nothing out of the ordinary in the blackness.

The soft pad of bare feet on tile surprised Severus greatly. He wondered who in their right mind would dare trod in a medical facility without their shoes. A match brought forth a small amount of illumination which spread by and by as a candelabra was set to burning. It drifted over and gently tapped to settle by the bedside on the floor.

"Padmoore?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

Not Padmoore. Not this time. A very pale, very familiar feminine face curtained in deep crimson hair swept in close, practically nose to nose with him. Brilliant green eyes flashed dangerously. Severus felt the blood draining from his face; his stomach turning sharply. The woman had smears of mud on her hands, flecks of it on her face, and she smelled heavily of soil.

"A word." she replied in a furious whisper.

Severus swallowed, his throat haggard and dry. He mouthed her name, though no sound would come.

 _Lily_.

This was vivid. Too vivid, in fact. Even when the impaired man dreamed lucidly, this particular woman was only ever seen from afar, or in repeated cycles of memory. How was it that he could feel her breath on his face? Her clammy hands with nails digging into his arm in a cold fury? She stood up straight, a sight to behold under-lit with candles and clad in a worm eaten burial dress.

"How, Severus… how is it fair that I had to die because you couldn't just keep your mouth shut about the prophecy? If you couldn't have me, then no one could? Is that what it was?" she hissed.

"Lily," he pleaded. "I… it wasn't… the prophecy didn't say it was a child, and I didn't know… I tried to make it right. I wanted you to be happy. I did. That's why I left you be when-"

" _Happy_? I had to miss my boy growing up; _my son_! MY son, who you couldn't even spare a kind word to when he suffered!" she snapped. "I saw how you looked at him with your asinine misdirected hate. He isn't James, Sev, but it was like Christmas came early any time you saw him getting into trouble, wasn't it? You might have fooled everyone else into thinking that you kept him alive because you're some kind of hero atoning for your nonsense in my honor, but I see you. _I see you, Severus_. You lined up with that lot and ever since then, it's all been about saving your own skin."

"That isn't true." Severus frowned, now speaking much more clearly though he was obviously hurt. "I don't know what's led you to believe that I didn't care, that I didn't try my damndest to keep your boy safe, but I did that for you. If I'd been solely out for myself-"

" _Save your breath_. I'm not here to debate with you, Snivellus." Lily interrupted, slowly sliding a wand from the cuff of her sleeve, unmistakably _her_ wand. "I was given the opportunity to come and see you. Do you know much on the subject of necromancy? Your new friend Padmoore seems to know a fair bit. Imagine that. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say. I thought about telling you how badly I wanted to mend our burned bridges before I died. How much I missed your company. But then I saw how bitter and nasty you've become. No matter what happened to you, Harry didn't deserve a guardian that hated him so irrationally. Maybe you were doing it so Voldemort would continue to trust you. Maybe. But what I believe in my heart of hearts is that you were taking out your anger over my husband _and_ myself on an innocent child. You are pathetic." she paused to stare at him for a moment, voice trembling and eyes wet with tears. "And I hate you."

Severus opened his mouth to speak, desperate to turn the conversation somehow. He'd played out what he would say within his mind a thousand times if he'd ever gotten the chance, but words failed him completely. It wasn't as though she was letting him explain himself, either. Not really. But hate? Oh, that hurt. To hear the words rather than only suspecting cut deeply. He shook his head as if to clear this abysmal scene, but when he opened his eyes again, there she remained. Necromancy! How low. He coughed, gasping for breath as he fought through a tightness in his chest. His eyes stung with tears that spilled over his drawn cheeks in pure defiance of his will.

"How _dare_ you? _Now_ you cry? There aren't enough tears in the world for what you've done to me!" Lily screeched, slapping him hard across the face.

Severus stared back at her, stock still from shock and immediately ceased his tears for the moment at least. He watched her draw her wand up, and then crack it down sharply, hexing him over and over again. He yelped in pain. He pleaded with her. He shuddered and sobbed and tried desperately to explain his behavior. He tried to tell her how badly he'd missed her. She ignored him entirely. His whole body began to shiver uncontrollably until his arms and legs began to curl into a fetal position.

"WELL DONE!" Sir Padmoore cried out jubilantly. "That was quite the performance, wouldn't you say? Let's give a hand to you both on that one, ha!"

Lily stopped hexing and lowered her wand. Sir Padmoore practically skipped into the room from his lurking spot in the doorway and wrapped an arm around the woman's waist. She smiled sheepishly at him and looked down at her feet. Severus gasped, still shivering, and glared at the pair standing before him.

"Wh… how did…" he stammered through his heaving.

"Now THAT is a question best left unasked, but I'll indulge you regardless." Sir Padmoore laughed, shooing Lily out of the room. "Mr. Snape! You spent a number of years as potion master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Perhaps you've heard of _Polyjuice Potion_?"

"Polyjuice… you don't… mean to say…" Severus wheezed.

"That I robbed a grave for you? Why, yes. Yes, I did. You may thank me later. She didn't need those hairs, after all. They slipped riiiiiiight out without any effort at all. I didn't even have to tug. And the wand, we needed the wand, of course. You'd have recognized that in a _second_ if the notes in your file are to be believed. I'll put it back, don't you worry. I'm a man of honor." the healer promised.

"You're a monster!" Severus seethed.

"I'm a visionary, Mr. Snape." Sir Padmoore corrected. "Look at your progress. Look at your position."

Severus turned his face into the pillow and shook with silent sobs. He hated this. He wanted out. Nothing was worth the ache in his chest. He'd believed that it was her with his whole heart. He couldn't live without hurting over her death. He couldn't die and face her. Everything was dark.

"Come now. Chin up, man. You've come so far in just one night!" Sir Padmoore sighed, patting the man's back.

"No. I'm done. I can't do this anymore. You have no idea what you're doing to people." he growled angrily, turning his head to smear the tears away.

"Oh? Well, that little consent form you signed says that I have you for a minimum of three months, and it has barely been one. Saying that I don't know what you're going through? Tut tut! You really have no idea, do you? Never thought to ask! My dear man, I am patient zero! Why do you think I hold this program in such high regard? I was the very first to be put through it. I wasn't about to let you become a failure!" the younger man laughed mirthfully. "No. If you want to drop out, you're going to have to wait for that minimum. Until then, I can do anything I deem necessary. _Trust me_. I do this for _you_. And you can either cooperate peacefully, or I'll just have to steal a great deal more hair and make sure that you have a nightly visitor for the next sixty days, hm? I'm certain there are potions available that will make you _more than believe it's her_ again. Try not to test me, old bean. I _do_ have my limits."


	6. Chapter 6

At all times, Severus trembled. The temperature had been further reduced in his quarters, so much so that often he would be able to see his shuddering breaths. He'd been told that his muscles needed to work and contract more regularly now that he could twitch them into movement on and off. Unfortunately, as hard as he tried, he could only do so when his mind was heavily distressed. As such, Sir Padmoore had employed various other disorienting potions and set him up with ' _Lily'_ as a tormenter twice weekly to achieve this end. _What sort of person robs a grave for hairs to use in Polyjuice Potion?_ Severus lamented in his head. He ached for solid lucidity. He knew that if he could directly face her without the haze of a potion clouding his mind, he could firmly tell himself that it wasn't her. No. Perhaps not. Just seeing her exact image was an ache to be reckoned. Had he expired? Was this repeated torment some level of hell? He had no answers. Only endless nights.

"Knock knock!" Sir Padmoore called cheerily from the door. "Mr. Snape, I'd like to introduce you to someone. Don't tense up like that, goodness, I didn't dig up your mother or anything. Ha, can you imagine? Is she even dead? No matter. No, no, THIS is my _partner_ , Madam Felicity McNair. She's come to check on your progress and ensure that I haven't killed you. Amusing woman, her."

"Partner?" Severus parroted, not even bothering to look up. "Left you to do the dirty work, I surmise?"

"Dirty work? I _enjoy_ my work, Mr. Snape! Don't let's be silly. I must attend to other people, but DO be polite, won't you? She started this program, after all, and I would hate to think that you'd annoyed her." he responded with an exaggerated frown.

"So it is not your study at all, then? You've merely been taking credit?" the bedridden man sneered.

For the first time, his host's smile faded. The absence of expression was staggering. It made him seem far more cold and wild without the presence of his delighted mask. The change lasted only a moment before he laughed forcibly and patted his half-amused partner on the back as he thoughtfully chewed at a jeweled ring on his right hand.

"That's rather like saying that the muggle Edison stole the idea for the light bulb simply because torches existed first. _Discontent is the first necessity of progress_ , he said. Lovely quote. One of my favorites." he sighed.

Instead of getting angry, his partner ignored him, taking a moment to pin up sweeping auburn hair and push her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. She seemed to be of relatively the same age group of Sir Padmoore, though her misty grey eyes held a great deal more wisdom than that. She turned and flapped a hand to shoo him away.

"Thomas made the decision to use pain exclusively for a speedier process. My methods are a bit too slow-going for his liking. Made it easier to torture him at his request when he injured his spine a few years ago, though." Madam McNair smirked. "While his procedure certainly gets the required results, I must ask what that delightful aroma is? Tell me, Sir Padmoore, were you intending to treat these infected wounds on your patient before he loses his legs entirely to gangrene?"

Sir Padmoore went a bit red and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Discomfort usually helps to keep people moving. But you are correct, he is getting to the point where it needs tending. Take care of that for me, won't you? I've got a meeting with our sponsors. Well, my sponsors. Bigger facility means bigger expenses and higher expectations, after all. You do well enough on your own with the base funding. Quaint, small clinic. Lovely. How many patients do you have now? Four? Ah, I miss the simpler times. Toodaloo." the jovial man called over his shoulder.

Madam McNair merely shook her head and began to rustle through her medical bag, not perturbed in the slightest by her partner's demeaning slights. Perhaps it was taken as playful ribbing. Regardless, she sighed and began circling her wand over the lacerations and welts on Severus' legs to clean them, then began applying different soothing salves. She spoke quietly as she worked, seemingly talking to herself.

"Various abrasions, infection, joint effusion, atrophied muscles…" she muttered, squinting. "It would be a bloody miracle if you could move unprompted."

"Your enthusiasm is inspiring." Severus huffed.

The healer looked up, cocking an eyebrow as if only just realizing that a person was attached to the injuries. She straitened in her seat, then thought better of it and stood, walking off into the hallway briefly only to return with a wheelchair. She carefully looped an arm behind the man and eased him into the chair. He could only sputter in confusion.

"The lighting in here is terrible. We're going outside. I can barely see what I'm doing." Madam McNair explained, tapping the chair to follow along at her pace through the corridors.

"It's the middle of the night." Severus argued.

"It is four in the afternoon, Mr. Snape." she insisted, much to his shock.

An attendant was informed, and though they protested the idea of moving a patient, they were clearly out ranked and made no move to halt the irritated healer. A ride in the lift brought the pair all the way up to the roof, where a small garden had been laid out, presumably for use of the staff on breaks. It was far too bright, even on a slightly overcast day, for Severus' weakened eyes. He blinked painfully until he was wheeled into partial shade. He was removed from the wheelchair and placed on a bench with one hand propped on the wooden arm of the seat. Why not stay in the original seat? He had no idea. It made him feel remarkably _normal_ , though.

"What was he like, beforehand? Padmoore. Before his treatment." the raven haired man inquired, puffing air to move hair away from his face.

The healer took a moment to tuck the stray strands behind his ear, as if the huffing was a distraction to her. She resumed tending and bandaging, clearing her throat in thought.

"Seems a bit inappropriate to discuss items of a personal nature concerning your head healer, don't you think?" she responded automatically.

"Inappropriate behavior festers in this facility like a cavity. I am making conversation." he coughed into his shoulder.

"Mm. That is fair, I suppose. He was much the same. Thomas was always very cheerful, but after the treatment… he no longer had fear. It was replaced with the mindset to succeed. It serves his patients well, all things considered. But his mood remains unchanged most of the time, and that is unnatural. Beneficial, but unnatural. Is that what you wanted to hear?" she wondered aloud, fastening the last bandages to his legs.

"How does your treatment program differ?" Severus asked, ignoring her question. "He seems to look down his nose at it."

"I focus mostly on physical therapy to begin with, making sure that one is capable of moving comfortably when the time comes. Then we introduce different stimuli into the routine to induce movement. We work on arms first. Legs come later. Once a person can stand, they are assisted with learning how to walk with a cane, and so on and so forth until they manage to become entirely independent." Madam McNair replied, dabbing some ointment over the man's split lip with a cotton bud before moving to reset a broken finger. "It takes more than twice as long as Sir Padmoore's methods. Pain isn't my forte. Thomas was my only _pain_ patient. Treating your partner is complicated, especially when he has his own ideas on how it should be done."

For a long moment, Severus considered this. He barely winced when the bone was snapped back into place with _Espiskey_. Had he known there was an alternative treatment, probably he would have tried that one first. Then again, drawing things out further or possibly starting from the beginning was not a terribly appealing idea. His thoughts were interrupted by the clack of a cane. Inwardly, he cringed. The fresh air was sweet and crisp with the first touch of warm sun he'd had since he couldn't remember when. He didn't want to go back inside.

"Madam McNair? I've done ten circles around the garden." a middle aged gentleman announced, then looked to Severus. "Do you mind if I sit down? It's the only bench."

Severus nodded uncertainly and watched as the man plunked down beside him. A handkerchief was dabbed over his heavily freckled face. Bright red hair flopped in an untidy mess over his forehead. He seemed quite winded, but otherwise pleased.

"Ten? That's two better than Thursday, Dylan. Well done." Madam McNair smiled. "Stay put for a moment, I'll get you some tea. Would you care for a cup, Mr. Snape?"

"Er… yes. Thank you." Severus replied hastily, thinking on how it must have been close on two months since his last cup of tea.

The healer smoothed her robes and packed up her medical bag before departing to fetch the tea. After a moment of awkward silence, the man called Dylan cleared his throat, patted his knees rhythmically, and turned to face his immobile bench mate.

"Ahem. Lovely day." he began, faltering when he only received a small nod in return. "Knees and ankles take it the worst, don't they? I still have scars from the branding hexes. Ointment and glamour spells haven't done much to cover them up, but you know, thank goodness for pants, eh?"

"You were a patient here?" Severus asked with a frown.

"Ten weeks. Sir Padmoore, he means well. I think. But when I couldn't walk more than a step or two without falling he resorted to oxygen stealing hexes. If I wanted to breathe, I had to walk to a floating counter curse bubble. I made it to eight steps on twisted ankles before I passed out. He was quite proud, quite proud. But... I rather lost the will to try after that. Out of body experiences took over, so he got bored of me and transferred me over to Madam McNair. Five months later I can walk on my own. I can hug my son for the first time in eight years. I get to go home this week and be on the outpatient program for the next six months is what they told me. Heh. Might have taken the long way 'round to do it, but I'm glad I came here." Dylan explained. "You will be, too. Maybe not now, but later."

"I see…"

Dylan sucked in a deep breath and held it, slowly releasing after a moment.

"You _will_ get better here," he insisted quietly. "But you needn't be miserable while you do. Since I'm leaving, Madam McNair will have a room opening up."

Severus scoffed and shook his head. There was no way that Sir Padmoore was going to just release him into the care of another healer. No, he was far too possessive to allow something like that. He'd barely had even a moment to consider such a thing before Madam McNair returned with a tea tray, which pressed the issue from his mind as he became overcome with relief. The woman passed over a cup to her patient, then helped Severus with his own cup, which had been doctored with cream and honey to his specifications. It was lovely. A warmth spread from his chest in great waves, pulling the prolonged chill from his bones. Mercy, it was delicious tea. If only for some sparse comforts such as these, he screwed his resolve into a tight knot and gathered up just enough courage to ask a veiled question.

"Madam McNair," he prompted. "You say that Sir Padmoore has changed since his treatment, but I would certainly feel more at ease if I knew precisely what to _avoid_ in order to deter his annoyance at my slow progress. Pet peeves, hobbies, things to assuage his boredom, perhaps?"

* * *

(( _Author's Note: Hm. Let's try the link one other way. It will not allow me to edit my comment from chapter five to accommodate (DOT is where a period ought to be, and SLASH is a forward slash). You can find a picture of Severus and Sir Padmoore at: half-blood-master-of-potions **DOT** tumblr **DOT** com **SLASH** tagged **SLASH** Padmoore Or if that still does not work... well, I cast Padmoore in my head with Tom Hiddleston ala Crimson Peaks hairstyle and attire. I hope that gives a little more insight ^_^_))


	7. Chapter 7

Raven hair hung limp and damp over Severus' eyes. He'd been unresponsive for a solid hour, lost in the labyrinth of his own mind. So deadened was he in this façade that Sir Padmoore himself found it necessary to halt in the evening's activities to step in and check his vitals. Pulse was present, if erratic. Pupils were responsive. Wheezing breath shifted the swathes of hair stuck to blood crusted lips. Oh, the patient was alive, but seemed to have gone catatonic.

"This will never do. What did you say to him? What's changed?" he asked the Lily impersonator. "I missed the last of the dialogue; I must have."

"Um…" she thought hard, then resorted to looking over her notes. "I… nothing unusual. The disappointment and revenge plot we've been doing this whole time is what I stuck to. I mentioned that I could have loved him if he hadn't been so grotesque… No amount of power could make up for my repulsion… I was getting to how it was a relief to be spent of him and how I wished I'd kicked sand on him as a child. It had been working up until now."

"Kicked sand? Mean little minx." Sir Padmoore scoffed. "That's not what caused this. I _wonder_."

"How much potion did you give him?" the Lily asked nervously.

"Precisely the mandated amount. It's not the potion. Ah. Hmmmm. Get out. I need to regroup." he sighed, sweeping a hand over weary eyes.

The actress lingered, shifting on her bare feet as if she wanted to say more to defend her actions, but a heavy slam of the healer's cane onto the tile floor startled her out of her hesitation. She bolted from the room without another word.

"Alllllright, Mr. Snape," he mumbled. "You have my attention. What is the problem tonight? I know you're still in there. I can hear you scheming."

Slowly, Severus turned to stare at the man opposite him. He swallowed heavily. He struggled to focus, narrowing his eyes, opening and reclosing his mouth in an effort to form words. Nothing would come save for some hoarse huffs. The healer rolled his eyes and held up a cup of water to moisten the stricken man's throat. Severus sipped quietly, then sighed.

"It isn't going to work, is it? Other people could at least stand by now. But I cannot. Only when Lily is here am I able to shift more than a very small amount, and there is not an endless supply of _Polyjuice Potion_. I cannot use her as a crutch forever. I have nothing left to give." he croaked softly. "How does everyone else do it? How did _you_ do it?"

Sir Padmoore stiffened in his seat. Insults he was used to. Praise for end results he was used to. Being used as an inspiration while treatment was ongoing was an entirely new experience. He glared accusingly at his patient, searching for any lack of sincerity in his features, but could find none. Perhaps a test was in order.

"Ahh, my wife passed away. My first wife, mind you. My fifth is alive and kicking. And hexing. And demanding alimony." he chuckled. "She was a firecracker, but a terrible driver, you see. Well! _One_ day, we decided to go out for a picnic in a muggle gathering spot and she asked to slide behind the wheel for lessons. I should not have allowed it. _But_ , being the generous fellow I _am_ , I guided her as best I could from the passenger seat. She accelerated when she meant to brake as we came 'round a bend in the road. I sustained a spinal injury. She was impaled by a strip of metal railing and slowly bled out. Because I could not move to assist her, she died."

All the while, the story was explained as though he was recalling a fond trip to the farmer's market. There was as faraway note to his voice, but it didn't quite seem sad.

"In fact, I kept a lock of my dear Emily's hair in the back of my pocket watch. It was useful, and thus stolen, because I had only sparse feeling in my lower extremities, so Madam McNair used the self same treatment I'm using on you… on me. The difference, Mr. Snape, is that _I_ have a heart. I _truly_ loved my wife. I would have crossed embers on my hands and knees if only to embrace her for a moment. And I did. _That_ is what separates the weak from the strong. If only you had it within you to reach out and embrace your woman, to look her in the eyes and tell her you'll do whatever you can to make amends… but you don't. You take your beatings like you deserve them and feel sorry for yourself. That isn't love, Mr. Snape. That is servitude."

A genuine expression of quiet shock came over Severus' face. He'd only been goading Sir Padmoore on, hoping that he would give up on his case and send him away to the other facility. He'd not expected in the least that something would sting so heavily of truth from the mouth of a man so vile. Probably it felt like truth because of the potion he'd been forced to ingest, but there was no denying how accurate it probably sounded to an outside observer. No. He forced it from his mind. He truly _had_ loved Lily. He knew that. Platonically, he had adored her from the moment he met her. Perhaps it could have eventually blossomed into something more, but when you'd known someone from nine years old and held them in the highest regard, desire had little to do with it. Even if Padmoore was particularly skilled at getting into his head with phrasing like that, he would not allow any more remarks to sully his actual memories. Lily deserved better than that. He had to get out.

"That's it then. Nothing for it." Severus droned brokenly.

"Afraid so, old chap. I'm not going to waste my energies on someone who isn't willing to try." Sir Padmoore baited.

Severus hung his head in clear disappointment. It wasn't much of a ruse. He genuinely did feel awful, but that was caused by the company he was keeping, of course.

" _Or_ perhaps that's what you were _hoping_ I'd say, hm? So you can be referred to the other clinic? Ha, you thought I wouldn't notice! That is… that is _highly_ amusing, Mr. Snape. What did you talk about with my colleague? Did she tease you with the promise of an easier route? Throw her success rate in your face? She doesn't even have room for you! You're sooooo close! If you leave, you're throwing all of that away. With what I've seen, you'll be on your feet in two weeks. Two weeks! At most!" he laughed. "It doesn't matter how far behind you are, because you… are… getting there."

Holding to a neutral expression, Severus blinked in a bored fashion.

"If I swap over, I'm still within the boundaries of my agreement because you are partners in different branches of the same practice. No, she did not try to lure me in, before you press the issue. I have it on good authority that she will have a room opening up, and I am no good to you if I shut down my mind at the start of every session. Or did my file neglect to mention my proficiency in the practice of occlumency? Nobody sees into my mind, and I can retreat at will to bend away from your torments. Nothing new has been added to the possibilities of my routine. It is the same day by day, and it's stagnated to the same reactions by now. How badly do you wish to show a complete failure in your percentages?" he asked coolly. "I can assure you that I am no longer willing to cooperate."

Sir Padmoore laughed heartily and looked up at the ceiling, slapping his knee in mirth.

"THAT is one convincing poker face you have there! I'm afraid that you've a fundamental flaw in your plan, however. Madam McNair has to _accept_ you for the trade as much as I have to be willing to be rid of you. If you didn't make a good impression on her, she certainly won't give up a slot for you. I'm sure you spoke kindly to her, buttered her up, asked all the right questions to nudge yourself ahead on her waiting list filled with children, elderly folks, and all of those other sob stories women get so sentimental about. By ALL means, let us _ask_ her!" he cackled, wiping away a tear of laughter with the palm of his hand.

With that, he hoisted himself up, tugged the blanket away from Severus' bed, tossed it on the floor and set fire to it. He tossed a bit of powder into the flames and called out for his research counterpart.

"Felicity, dear! Do you have a moment?" he warbled.

"No." came the disembodied response.

"Don't be a tease, love! I have Mr. Snape here wanting to transfer into your program. You remember him from this past weekend, I'm sure!" Sir Padmoore insisted. "Tell me, do you have an opening in your clinic?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to take him in?"

"No."

No? That was it? No explanation? No room for argument? Severus coughed on the smoke clouding up from the blanket fire, his eyes stinging. He could barely see the satisfied smirk on the male healer's face.

"Sorry to bother you, then! Have a good night!" he chuckled.

"Wait." the voice sighed. "How many weeks is he?"

"… _Nine_. Why do you ask?" Sir Padmoore hissed, losing a bit of his steam.

"Never mind. I'll take him. He's nearly done. My next isn't scheduled for immediate release from Saint Mungo's anyway. No sense in wasting the bed. Have him ready by morning. Those bandages had better be fresh." Madam McNair stated firmly, snuffing the call out from the opposite end.

Crestfallen, Sir Padmoore put a hand to his heart as though sorely disappointed. Severus released a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding, only to cough once again from the ashy residue lingering in the air. The healer shook his head and vanished the smoke with a flick of his cane. Presumably his wand was encased inside. Or perhaps it was merely an old habit to wave a stick and he exclusively kept to wandless enchantments at the heart of things.

"You may go, Mr. Snape. But hear this: you won't last a _week_ in her clinic. You are a man with a great deal of _pride_." Sir Padmoore proclaimed evenly, slowly allowing the superior smirk to return. "Sooner or later, you'll come back to me to ride out your contract."

"And you would assume this because…?" Severus drawled.

"Because? Because of her treatments, my dear fellow." he shrugged, tugging the door closed after leaving his patient with a final thought. "Oh, they tickle like _mad_."

"…WHAT."


	8. Chapter 8

A faint glimmer of afternoon light rippled over the surface of the new clinic's indoor swimming pool. Severus' heart thudded harshly in his chest, quick as a hummingbird, as one of his attendants wheeled him to the edge of the water. It would not surprise him in the least to find himself shoved into the depths as an incentive to move, but he had never been an exceptional swimmer to begin with. Thus, it set his teeth on edge when he was brought to a halt with his feet sticking out a short way over the lip of the pool. He'd not even been shown to his room yet. Sir Padmoore had escorted him to the alternate treatment branch himself, and hardly took notice of the irritation of his partner's assistant over how late they'd arrived. Whereas Madam McNair had requested a morning drop off, Sir Padmoore took that to mean sometime in the early afternoon.

"Normally, we would begin with a small tour to show you where all of the different therapies take place, but seeing as how you came to us rather later in the day than we'd expected, we're running a little behind schedule." the attendant explained, apologetically. "We need to begin right away, but you'll have time to settle into your room after lunch in an hour or so."

Surprisingly, the assistants were allowed to speak. Either the rules were a bit more lax at the sister location, or the employees were far more trustworthy. Probably a little of both if he had to guess. He swallowed thickly. Conversation was not at the forefront of his mind at the moment, but eventually it seemed necessary to address their location when the young woman tapped her wand to his sleeves and then his trousers at the knee to magically shorten the clothing into something more appropriate for swimming.

"I assume you're intending to toss me in?" he asked with forced calm.

"Not so much _toss_ as _lower_ you, Mr. Snape…" the attendant laughed quietly. "Don't worry, I won't let you drown."

She then attached a pin to his shirt, which seemed to have an enchantment on it. A float charm, as it was explained to him, to keep his head above water. All the same, there was a distinct swell of fear creeping through his chest like a cold fog as he was levitated and eased into the water. He'd expected a shock of cold, but surprisingly it was quite comfortably warm, hovering around an appropriate bathing temperature. Severus only received a confused snort in return when he asked if this was some sort of de-lousing process to remove contaminates from the previous location.

"Not quite." the attendant replied after she'd taken the time to magically adjust her uniform into something much akin to what surfing muggles might wear and slip into the pool next to him. "We're going to work on easing some of your swollen joints and stretch out any stiff muscles."

Severus watched in mild confusion as his left arm was stretched out, then rotated at the shoulder, then bent at the elbow. It was moved in every direction in a slow sweep to accommodate for soreness and disuse. His wrist was flexed, then his fingers as he bobbed upright in relative silence. Every once in a while, a small grunt of discomfort would huff its way out, but for the most part it was actually quite an enjoyable experience. The process was repeated for his opposite arm.

"Water therapy is a staple of ours in recovery because it's a much gentler start to muscle usage when gravity is less of a factor," she explained as she worked. "It reduces muscle spasms, eases join pain… I heard that hiss, Mr. Snape, so please let me know if it hurts… At the same time, the raised temperature eases tension and increases heart and breathing rates so we're developing your cardiovascular fitness as well. I assume they didn't do more than some light assisted movements from bed at Saint Mungo's, and at the other facility they focus on other things, so we're going to try working you from a lot of various angles to see what helps. Do you understand?"

"I do." Severus nodded. "How often is this sort of therapy to be implemented?"

Inwardly, he was hoping for a frequent interval. As frightened as he was to begin with, the whole experience was terribly relaxing. This might have had something to do with the absence of Sir Padmoore, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he'd not seen the last of that horrible man. Until such a time came to pass, however, he would try to be as cooperative as possible. He'd been led to believe that the new therapy was based in mollycoddling and childish prompts for movement in the way that his previous caretaker had explained things on the way. From what he could see, there were reasonable arguments for his current exercise, and everything was explained in a fashion which did not leave him in the dark about the purpose.

"Probably three times per week, or more if your movement improves quickly. We play it by ear depending on how you respond to other therapies." she responded, easing him into a sitting position on a submerged seat in the shallows so that she might bend and move his legs. "They'll do some muscle stimulation with a _fulgur_ pulse charm, which will shock to induce muscle contractions and build your strength fairly regularly, but it doesn't particularly hurt. It can be a bit uncomfortable at times, but mostly it feels a bit like a small thumping sensation. It helps with atrophied muscles, so it is entirely necessary."

All the while, Severus drank in the information and allowed his mind to buzz with possibility. Usually he was so bored and listless that hope was merely something to observe in others. Never himself. He took a long, deep breath to relax further and tilted his head back. His lungs crackled faintly. A bit of fluid on them, he assumed, from a mild sickness after his room temperature had been reduced. Obsidian eyes stared up at the clouds through skylights in the ceiling, drooping dark lids as he nearly dipped into sleep from the sheer comfort of the warm water and firm hands over his sore limbs.

"You look like death warmed over, Severus."

He jolted slightly at the sound of the Headmistress' voice. There she stood, arms folded near the edge of the pool. It seemed as if she were trying to hold a stern expression, though it smacked heavily of relief.

"Who are you again? It's been months." Severus droned, somewhat irritated that she'd only just now come to pay him a visit.

"They wouldn't let me into the other building, would they? I owled you twice a week, and when I received no response, I showed up in person. Sir Padmoore assured me that you were making progress and that you were in the best of hands. From the state of you, I would have to surmise that the regimen did not go according to plan?" she prompted. "Dear lord, your legs are pale. Have they never seen the sun?"

The healer's assistant hemmed quietly and decided that it would be a good time to levitate the sallow man out of the water. He was wrapped in cotton towels and deposited back in his wheelchair. She excused herself to give the pair a bit of privacy, ducking away to find a new set of clothes to dress Severus out. He stared at the ground, trying to find a delicate way to phrase what he'd been through. As much as he ached to rave angrily about the happenings, he knew that she had been rather hoping that he could at least stand by now. Currently he could be seen as a disappointment to her. It irritated him how much he valued her approval, which probably stemmed from having her as a Professor himself before joining her at Hogwarts as a peer. Whatever friendship they had managed to build, the woman would always be on at least a step-stool of a pedestal in his eyes.

"Never mind my legs." he grumbled. "It did not go well, no. My tolerance for pain was too high. It became necessary to amplify the effects using other avenues of torment. I reached a breaking point. It did not bring the success we'd expected."

Minerva slowly removed her spectacles and stared in shock at her former colleague. She knew for a fact that Severus was a man who could quietly endure a great deal of torment and barely bat an eyelash outwardly speaking. He'd dealt with enough exploded cauldrons from careless students to show a great resilience within the school, not even taking into account what he must have gone through as a double agent. To have him sit opposite her and openly admit to reaching a breaking point was nearly incomprehensible.

" _What_ other avenues of torment?" she inquired, deadly serious.

* * *

" _Grave robbing?!_ Of all the unspeakable _atrocities_! Never _mind_ the use of unforgivable curses as part of a treatment plan for the infirmed! Do you have even the _remotest_ idea of how serious this is?!" Minerva bellowed, slapping her hand on the head healer's desk.

Madam McNair met her fierce gaze with one of startling evenness. This was probably not the first time someone had thrown a fit in her office.

"Are you quite finished, Headmistress?" she sighed quietly.

"Finished? _You'll_ be finished once the Ministry is made privy to what has been going on here! I shouldn't be surprised if the lot of you are carted off to Azkaban in shackles for what you've done!" Professor McGonagall shouted, hoarse with fury. "I'll make it my personal business to see it comes to that!"

The healer simply laced her fingers together on the desk and waited for the shouting to cease before bothering to address any of the tantrum's cliff notes. When it seemed that the woman on the other side of the desk was waiting for a response, she pulled out a folder from a lower drawer and flopped it open.

"The Ministry is well aware of the procedures we employ here as well as the secondary location. It also states quite clearly in the consent forms that we have been given card blanche to use whatever means necessary to garner a reaction from our patients. Perhaps you would care to read the information before coming into my office with such a blissfully unaware sense of righteous fury?" Madam McNair paused only long enough to hold up a hand for continued silence as she spoke. "These are not my methods. You may take umbrage with my colleague's techniques as you see fit, but he does get results. Mr. Snape came to me just this afternoon, and thus far has only been set up with therapy in the pool, which you observed. Did it seem as though Mr. Snape was enduring maltreatment?"

White knuckled with rage, Minerva set her lips into a thin line. Her mind raced with brash responses, but for the moment there was little to be done but look over the papers to ensure that truth was present in this argument. She snatched the folder up while the healer calmly made a pot of tea. She was thankful that Severus was currently being dried and dressed away from this scene, especially as it turned out that all of the paperwork was in order.

"Surely you have to admit that it is unethical at the very least." Minerva hissed, angrily sipping the offered tea.

"Certainly. That is why I work in a separate facility, Headmistress. While I have used these techniques myself in the past, once, it was specifically what the patient in question requested. Sir Padmoore is brilliant, if intense. He does whatever it takes to get results and revels in the more challenging cases. It can be like wearing blinders in regards to the patient condition, but he's never had a fatality, and his success rate is staggering. Mr. Snape's high tolerance is the only thing which kept him from progressing. Now that he's stagnated at a certain amount of movement, and can only do so under distress, I will attempt other methods. You are welcome to visit and check up on his progress at any time… that you are in a less abrasive mood." Madam McNair added pointedly. "You'll hardly find an average Sir or Madam willing to tolerate being threatened and still offer you the chance to visit with a patient. I will thank you to remember that. The next time I see you, I will pretend that we did not meet under these circumstances."


	9. Chapter 9

An hour or so after Minerva had left, Severus had finally settled into his new quarters. Unlike his previous lodgings, the walls were painted with soft hues of green and decorated with sparse photographs, as well as an arrangement of bearded irises in a squat porcelain vase. The enchanted photographs showed natural scenery such as autumn trees shifting in the wind or rain against window panes. The _actual_ window looked out into a small courtyard with a modest fountain. It was far better than looking out to watch droves of other patients endure curses during all hours of the day and night. He leaned back on his pillow, comfortably full of potato leek soup and buttered bread. Simple, but delicious. Probably the thing which the gaunt invalid was most pleased about was the presence of a schedule tacked to the wall beneath a clock. Everything was strictly regimented, differing by day. In this way, he was able to busy his mind by studying the various lines of routine. For now, he was content. The potion master closed his eyes and drifted into a light doze.

When his consciousness returned some two hours later, Severus was surprised to find two new attendants unpacking a series of wires, pads, and other various instruments. A knot formed in his stomach at the sight of it. Only when the men noticed he was awake did they address the elephant in the room.

"You're awake. Good," the shorter of the two gentlemen nodded, gently easing his blanket down away from his arms. "It's time for your electric therapy. We've finished our setup, so we can begin right away."

Electrodes were stuck firmly to various points in each arm, crisscrossing red and black patches in squares of four to a muscle group. Severus watched in mild apprehension. While the previous attendant had assured him that it was mostly a painless process, the thought of being steadily electrocuted was not at the top of his bucket list by any means. He cleared his throat quietly.

"So. What is the intensity level for this procedure? And the length?" he inquired in hopes that these people would be as accommodating as his last therapist.

The taller of the two shrugged lightly and fastened the red electrode leads to the tip of his wand as his partner did the same for black before replying. _They must use varying frequencies of current_ , Severus reasoned.

"Low intensity at first, as you're new. If you've ever walked over a carpet in socks and then gotten a shock when you touch a doorknob, it's a lot like that. It forces the muscles to contract and relax. Feels a bit weird, but you'll get used to it. We're giving you a work out. Once you start feeling any soreness or muscle burn, we won't continue much longer than that. You build your tolerance for it by having it done a couple of times a day, and you'll get stronger by and by. That way you'll have the strength to move once you get your wandless will under control." he explained.

A moment or so later, the wands were activated and Severus watched in fascination as his muscles jumped and twitched of their own accord. It was exactly like enduring small thumping jolts, but they were not painful. Soreness did begin to set in fairly quickly, but he assumed that it was to be expected from continued disuse. As the gentlemen worked, it was further explained that the process would make it far easier to maintain control of his body for extended periods from the start of when he was prompted to move. Once he was able to exercise on his own, this particular treatment would be discontinued. When he asked if legs could be added from the start to save time, the request was firmly declined. For now, arms were the focus.

By the time it had ended, his muscles were aching. Somehow it seemed a good ache to him, though. Even if he had not been able to move them freely on his own, it _felt_ as though he had. If anything, it was a confidence boost for the promise of what may come to pass. As he was detached from the electrodes, the door of his room snapped open to reveal Madam McNair, flanked by her main assistant, the water therapist.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Snape. I trust you're settling in?" the healer asked briskly, eyes running over the information on her clip board.

"I… yes." Severus responded meekly, knowing that there was a very real chance of getting backlash from Minerva's outburst.

The two electric attendants waved a silent farewell and slipped away quietly, seemingly unnerved by Madam McNair's tone. The water therapist offered an encouraging half smile, however. Apart from the soft rustle of turning pages, the room was uncomfortably silent, and this continued for a solid ten minutes before the healer gave a small shooing motion to her assistant.

Severus gave her a questioning glance as each arm was lifted in turn. A small, metal encased device much in likeness to a monocle was passed over the limbs, top and bottom. He wondered what they were looking for, and if it was meant to magnify the skin, though it passed over clothing as well. The glass within flashed from clear to yellow, to grey, to red depending on the area. Madam McNair made notes of each color, then signaled again. The same inspection was made over the whole of Severus' torso. Finally, he could bear the confusion no longer.

" _What_ , precisely, are you doing?" he asked in exasperation.

"Taking your measurements." Madam McNair replied simply, finally looking her patient in the eye. "For your final treatment before the evening meal, if you must know. I don't much care for guess work where it can be eliminated."

Severus narrowed his eyes slightly to indicate that he still did not follow her meaning. He looked to her assistant, but did not receive further information. He shifted his neck uncomfortably when the healer passed over her clip board and took a seat next to his bed. It might not have been so worrying if he didn't catch the barest of a grin hidden behind the papers.

"Put your option in now or never, Amelia." Madam McNair advised.

"Oh… oh, right, yes." the assistant nodded, flipping to the last page of the clip board and scribbling in a final note. "Forgive us, Mr. Snape, but we have a little pool going. Buy in was five galleons, so don't let me down."

"No leading the patient, please." the healer tutted mildly, taking his pulse at the neck.

"Leading for wh-" Severus started to demand, but cut himself off as his right arm was lifted to hold out to one side.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he felt a gentle raking of nails running from his wrist up to the crook of his elbow, then halfway up his bicep. The feeling retreated back down, then repeated again to leave goosebumps rising in its wake. He gave the healer a bewildered look.

"You know, I had an interesting conversation with the Headmistress," Madam McNair commented, switching arms to mirror the stimulus. "She seemed to think that I was equally responsible for Sir Padmoore's use of Polyjuice Potion in your recovery. I wonder why she thought that?"

Severus swallowed and set his jaw. Probably he should have clarified that the facilities operated independently of each other. If he knew Minerva, it was likely more a berating endeavor than a conversation. If that was the case, he could not blame the healer for being annoyed. All the same, he could not deny a discomfort at the contact. He was not used to lighter touches and they sent mostly unfamiliar tingles running the length of his arms.

"Suppose I could… could have… been a bit more sp-specific when she asked about my… ahem… my progress." he replied haltingly, never taking his eyes off of her hands as they traveled under his sleeves.

His breath caught in his throat when his answer seemed to dissatisfy the woman and she dragged further up until she'd reached the hollow under his arm. He clenched his jaw, sweat beading his upper lip, and faced away into the pillow. It became clear that he was holding his breath.

"Two yellow zones, one red zone for each side." Madam McNair recited, leaving her assistant to make the appropriate check marks. "Proceeding to torso. Breathe, Mr. Snape, this is only an exam for the moment to verify the measurements."

The man forced a few shallow breaths through gritted teeth. He was about to snap some sort of veiled insult, but found himself constricted to bottling a whimper as fingers drifted over his abdomen and bumped over his protruding rib cage. How humiliating. It had been decades since anyone had dared to take advantage of his sensitivity in such a way, and he'd been thoroughly convinced that no such feelings existed any longer. Not past his adolescence, surely.

Two minutes felt an eternity to him. That was all it had taken to complete the exam, but he was short of breath and reddened to the ears with embarrassment by the end of it, even if he'd not made a single sound. Madam McNair took his pulse once again and noted the difference in her chart before turning back to him.

"Am I to endure this nonsense regularly?" Severus muttered irritably, fast losing the silver lining he'd placed over this institution.

"That was a confirmation exam. That was not the stimulus therapy." the healer repeated with a superior sniff.

* * *

Over the next four days, Severus came to find that the stimulus therapy itself was exactly as Sir Padmoore had described it. Every day was a struggle of monumental proportions to conceal any verbal reaction as targeted _rictusempra_ charms and manual tickles were employed to prompt movement in his arms and torso. It went on rotation between the assistant, Amelia, and Madam McNair herself depending on the day. Each day, Severus would hyperventilate to the point of near unconsciousness, starkly against the instructions to just let his body react as it would naturally. He'd come to find that he was nearly every bit as ticklish as he'd been in childhood and the revelation was something which the man was heavily in denial over.

By day five, Madam McNair announced that they'd reached an impasse and adjustments would have to be made. She swept into the room armed with a spritz bottle. The contents were misted over his bed, then she sat down opposite him and waited, magazine in hand to pass the time. Severus coughed through the mist and shook his head in disgust at the sickly sweet medicinal scent.

"No treatment today?" he asked in relief.

"Quite the contrary. I'm waiting for the sensory enhancement potion to take effect, and _then_ we will go about business." she responded in a matter-of-fact tone, much to his astonishment. "You're focusing all of your energy into bottling a _verbal_ reaction, which is not leaving room for your wandless enchantments to incite a physical reaction. That changes today. By now, we should have seen some sort of movement given how well the rest of your itinerary has gone."

"Is that… I don't feel as though… do we _have_ to?" Severus stammered, allowing nervousness to creep into his voice for the first time.

"If I didn't think we had to, we would not." Madam McNair sighed. "You really must break through this mental wall that's holding you back. I understand that you've been conditioned to believe that having ticklish sensitivities equates to weakness, but it is a natural reaction to external stimuli exactly the same as pain. It's so much easier to work with children. They even enjoy it and view it as a return to normality. Considering healer-patient confidentiality, I am not exactly sending articles to the Daily Prophet to sully your reputation and make you appear… more human. You are used to pain. You are not used to this. That is why I feel that it will work to your advantage."

Severus could feel heat of a flush rising again, blotching the pale skin to the point he seemed to be wearing poorly applied rouge over the majority of his face. He was advised to drink an oxygen enrichment potion, and did so without a word. A tremble worked its way through his neck and jaw. There was nothing to be said. He knew he was doomed. It had been all but impossible to handle himself beforehand, but with an enhancement working against him? Oh, this would not end well.

Amelia raised her wand on command and applied the first wave of _rictusempra_ charms, which gathered an immediate wincing response. At first it was a collection of strangled noises, followed closely by a tight-lipped throaty chuckle, which soon dissolved into velvety baritone laughter. If not for the potion keeping his blood oxygenated, Severus would have struggled a great deal to catch his breath. He shook his head in protest, gasping out pleas to cease the spell as he cackled and pressed his face sideways to the pillow to slightly muffle himself, all to no avail.

A distinct squirm coursed through his torso, shifting his arms up and down, and his shoulders side to side. Pleased with the turn of events, Madam McNair made notes in her chart as per usual. She gave the cue to amplify the spell, then shifted to stand beside her patient and flutter her fingers over his belly and ribs. This prompted a heighted, helpless laughter.

"No no no! Y-you _mustn't_ _do_ ~! Please!" Severus pleaded though peals of deep throated giggling. "I ca… Stop, stop, stop, I'll _burst_! Bloody… sodding…"

Funnily enough, as snarky and irritable as the man tended to be, there was none of the expected anger laced into his words. It was desperation alone. Taking this as a cue of cooperation, the healer pressed a bit further and tickled him harder.

"Certainly I will stop. As soon as you make me." she prompted.

"Wh-?! H-how? Ohohom… I… No, I can't bear it!" he laughed soundlessly.

Quite suddenly, he bent forward and his hands snapped up and grabbed at Madam McNair's fingers, tightly trapping them in his spindly fingers. The healer immediately canceled out the spell and ceased her efforts. Severus heaved, gasping for air, shaking with deep residual giggles. He'd not yet noticed the achievement.

"Mr. Snape…" Madam McNair began.

"No…. I just… I need a break, please. Merlin's balls… I can't remember the last time I…" he mumbled breathlessly.

"Mr. Snape," she repeated, then resorted to his first name if only to shift his attention. " _Severus_. Look. Look what you've done."

Amelia squeaked happily and applauded as Severus looked down and seemed to realize for the first time that he was sitting up of his own accord. He was physically gripping another person's hands. He let out an astonished huff and let go, experimentally wiggling his fingers and turning over his hands. There was still a sense of detachment and faint trembling, but he was _doing it_. A book was taken from the bedside table and placed into his hands. He was asked to open it. Severus had a bit of difficulty in the command, but managed to get the cover open, and then smear a few pages to turn.

Over the next few minutes, he carried out simple orders: _Touch your face, reach for your knees, catch this ball with both hands_ , and so on.

"Congratulations! You've made it through your wall!" Madam McNair exclaimed, giving his shoulders a jubilant squeeze.

Severus knew it was only his upper body. He knew it might not last if he didn't continue to be active and build his stamina. There were hundreds of stipulations that reeled through his mind which should have been red flags in his normal way of thinking to shut down any sense of accomplishment. But he allowed himself to outweigh the negatives with positives. He could read a book on his own. He could drink tea and eat on his own. He could move hair out of his face. He could bathe himself. He could propel himself in a wheelchair to go where he wished. Lastly, and this he implemented immediately, he could cover his face as he openly wept in relief.

Through his slightly shamed blubbering, something close to gratitude began to leak out with the tears trailing over his drawn features. The healer rested a hand on his back and waited for him to calm. Shushing would have been demeaning, and she was content to let him work out his emotions. Amelia went to fetch the poor man a cup of tea. He'd certainly earned it. As soon as she disappeared from the room, Madam McNair leaned down to offer her two cents on what ought to be an upcoming endeavor.

"Imagine Sir Padmoore's surprise when you're able to punch him right in the nose the next time he goads you on." she smirked.

* * *

 _Author's note: Ha, yes. Severus and Minerva, absolutely BROTP_


	10. Chapter 10

Following the evening meal, which he'd been able to eat on his own for the first time in over seven years, Severus continued to practice well past the call for lights out. It was strange to feel his body move via wandless magic. If someone had placed dozens of strings over his person at various intervals to puppet him here and there, it would have produced much the same effect. Having been told that he would eventually become so accustomed to the feeling that it would become as natural as his original means of movement was a comforting thought. In the dark, he clenched and relaxed his hands over and over. He leaned and shifted side to side. It wasn't until nearly one in the morning when he felt inclined to fake sleep as the soft sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor and came to stop at his door.

"I know you aren't sleeping, Mr. Snape," the voice of Madam McNair accused quietly from the foot of his bed.

A light was ignited and she came to sit next to him with an expectant expression until he relented and opened his eyes. He waited for some sort of snide comment at his breaking protocol to stay awake without proper reasons. Truthfully, he was exhausted, but a part of him was terrified that if he chanced to rest that the ability to move would go away.

"I couldn't sleep." he lied.

"Mm." the healer responded in clear disbelief. "Look at me."

Begrudgingly, Severus turned his head and locked eyes with the woman. He knew that his eyes must have been bloodshot and his posture unavoidably slumped, but he would remain defiant for as long as he was able. If he'd refused to sleep for Sir Padmoore, he would be force fed a sleeping draught. In the present moment, all he could do was swallow, eyes darting away frantically when she didn't immediately speak.

"You're afraid that it's going to go away." she stated. "It will. I'll spare you the hypocrisy of acting as though you're in the wake of some sort of miracle, Mr. Snape. But it will also come back. Your wandless magics have been in disuse for a long time. Your stamina for it will be low. Right now, you're straining yourself even if you don't realize it yet."

His face fell.

"Think of your wandless capabilities and your physical capabilities as water in two separate glasses. To add to one, you must give from the other. Steadily throughout the day, the water is used up, evaporating and burning away. It is not an infinite supply." Madam McNair continued. "If you keep this up, you won't even be able to regain consciousness in the morning. Perhaps by the afternoon, but even then, you'll be sluggish. Rest is an important part of recovering your strength. You are pushing too hard. Eventually you will add to the well of your capabilities, but until that time, you must pace yourself."

The raven haired man gave a small nod of understanding. Showing restraint when he'd been still for so many years was a far more difficult thing than she seemed to realize, but arguing would likely lead him nowhere. His mind spun possibilities of continuing his endeavors in secret, but a warning glare put a stopper in the flow of his thoughts. At least for the moment.

"Then what am I to do with myself, if not practice?" he asked slowly, failing to keep a note of bitterness from sliding into his tone. "Lay here and wait until I'm told that I'm allowed, like a beaten dog pining for activity?"

"Hardly. You'll still have electric therapy twice per day, and water exercise three times per week. On days of rest, I expect you to _rest_ for the greater part of the day, and participate in group sessions to re-socialize yourself with other patients. Listen to music. Carry on conversation. Sleep. Call for visitations if you so choose. Your stimulus prompts will drop to every other day, then lessen even more as you gain stamina for prolonged movement. We will measure your strength at the end of each week and document your progress." she explained. "This is usually the sort of timeline which Sir Padmore is used to, extended movement within five days. I think he really enjoyed having you as such a resilient challenge. But you are in my care now, which means that we will proceed my way. Not his. I'll thank you not to give me a reason to strap you to your bed."

Severus scoffed and shook his head. In a way, he was still annoyed that so much time would be wasted sitting still, but the explanation seemed to carry little evidence of overt dishonesty. Sir Padmoore, as skin-crawlingly abrasive as he was, had filled his head with such heavy promise of speed in recovery that he was all but clawing at the chance to refine his movement. It genuinely ached to be told to pull back on his efforts. He was not keen about the idea of being strapped in place at all. He decided to deter the conversation so as not to think on it.

"Why are you awake? Surely your night shift employees have everything under control?" he inquired as a means to be rid of her.

"They are interns. I still have to check in every few hours. Even if they're only babysitting a slumbering handful of patients, I have indicators in my quarters which alert me to any abnormalities and I have a nasty little habit of being inclined to follow up on them. Such as the absence of sleep waves and reduced heart rate from patients who are meant to be in rest." she replied pointedly, causing Severus to avert his eyes once more. "I know you are excited. I will not fault you for it, or try to scold you into complying at the moment. Repeated offenses will be handled differently, but I know that you are still feeling your way around this new means of movement. I'm too old to get annoyed over every little hiccup in my planning. Try to be patient."

She had to be joking. By all appearances, Madam McNair could not have been older than her early thirties. He squinted in disbelief.

"Too old? You're what, thirty-five?" he asked dryly, trying to get a rise out of her by guessing older than she probably was. "Try managing a school's worth of students of varying age who defy you at every turn."

"I am one-hundred-and-forty-seven, Mr. Snape. I've managed healing establishments with an excess of four hundred employees and a thousand patients at a time. Forgive me, but you're not impressing anyone." the healer rolled her eyes. "Devoting yourself to a different cause with smaller groups has its own set of challenges."

Mouth agape, Severus tried to compute what he'd been told. Surely she was lying. Even Professor Dumbledore at the last of his life had shown excessive age, regardless of how spry he remained. In response to the obvious question in her patient's eyes, Madam McNair turned around and lifted the hair from her trademark messy bun to expose the nape of her neck. She revealed a small, glowing tattoo of sorts. A symbol that led Severus to wrack his brain to recall the meaning.

"It's some sort of glamour spell, am I correct? To permanently reduce the appearance of age?" he guessed.

"Nearly. It _is_ a glamour spell, but all it does is conceal the points of my ears and the milky sheen of my eyes. People are less inclined to let you treat them if they are aware you are a breed of the taller Fae folk. Strictly speaking, we are not allowed to treat human beings." she shrugged, turning back to face him.

"By Ministry law?" Severus added.

"By Elvish law." Madam McNair corrected. "The spell helps to avoid certain obstacles. That is all. Are you going to go to sleep now, or did you have other prying concerns?"

"I have a great many prying concerns, but I suppose I will keep them to myself for the time being. I have to wonder how you came to work with a person like Sir Padmoore, but I would imagine that if you cannot even practice in the open as you are naturally that you have reason to mask a great deal." he replied coolly.

"We all have our vices, Mr. Snape." Madam McNair admitted evasively, rising to leave. "Goodnight."

Once she'd cleared the room and Severus again found himself in the dark, it was his full intention to resume his activities. Something gave him pause. Whether it was because he knew now for certain that he was being monitored at all times, or because he'd lost the resolve to be defiant, he could not say. How had he been so easily placated? With a resigned sigh, he leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes, abandoning schemes for sleep.

* * *

Mid morning proved to be a little more tasking than Severus had expected. The attendants had to wake him several times as it was too much of a strain to stay awake for more than a five-minute stretch. By ten o'clock, Madam McNair made the decision to have him wheeled out into the common area to socialize with other patients in an effort to keep his mind active enough to abstain from oversleeping. There were only three other patients. A nine-year-old girl, an elderly man, and a woman in her early twenties with a prosthetic leg. The adults were engaged in a game of wizard chess with small dishes of candy to the side of each of them which they used to place friendly bets. It seemed rude to interrupt them, so he kept to himself.

A radio played softly in the corner, and he attempted to focus on that as opposed to inserting himself into an interaction. Severus had never been particularly social to begin with, and the idea of being thrust into a room of people he didn't know for the sole purpose of making conversation made him highly uncomfortable. With discomfort came the return of the more sour aspect of his attitude. He wanted to go back to sleep. There was no part of him that wished for the company of strangers. Unfortunately, an interaction was to be held whether he cared for it or not as he spotted someone wheeling over in his peripherals. Perhaps if he ignored them, they would retreat back to their previous activities.

"Hello… What is your name? Why are you sitting here all by yourself?" a very small voice asked curiously.

Severus knew from experience that children had a terrible tendency to remain in place and continue to badger a person with relentless questions unless they were addressed. A sharp remark would surely send the girl on her way, possibly in tears, but options had to be weighed. If Madam McNair received a report that he was being hateful to one of the other patients, he could be kicked out of the program. This could not be chanced when he'd made such a leap in progress. With a labored groan, he turned his head to acknowledge his visitor.

"Mr. Snape… and because I wish to be alone with my thoughts." he replied pointedly.

"Oh. That's a funny name. What's your _first_ name, though? _My_ first name is _Lotus_ , and I'm nine, and I like coloring and pumpkin pie and books about ghosts and monsters and days when it rains a whole bunch." the child continued, undeterred by the man's vastly uninterested expression. "Why would you want to be alone with your thoughts? Won't you get lonely? I don't want you to be lonely if you're new. You don't have to be shy. I'll sit with you. What should I color? I could make you a picture to put in your room. Do you like bats and ravens? You look like you like bats and ravens. Your hair looks like raven wings that floof out at the bottom. Did you know that ravens like to play in the snow and they usually aren't cursed at all?"

With a growing sense of dread, Severus came to the realization that he wasn't about to escape this conversation or company. This was further cemented in his mind when Amelia peeked around the corner to check in on everyone. When he mouthed a silent _help me_ , she grinned and shook her head _no_. He scowled and stared up at the ceiling until he felt the little girl tugging at his sleeve.

"I asked you _six_ questions and you answered _no_ questions." Lotus frowned.

He slowly tilted his head back down to face her, deadpan and clearly uninterested. Whether or not Madam McNair would give him a lecture for it, Severus went to move his hands back to the wheelchair to coast himself away from the girl, but found he could do little more than twitch his hands. The girl looked at him curiously, then patted one of his hands in understanding.

"It's okay. You just started, right? It'll get easier. They told me I can start on legs soon. I can already move my feet a little. But I wanted to be good enough to color, so I've been practicing arms and hands and fingers. See? I can draw without wobbling the lines!" the child peeped proudly.

Against his will, his eyes drifted to the little girl's paper of their own accord. She carefully drew a raven with a fair amount of precision. As much as he was loathe to ask, risking a further slew of long-winded ramblings, Severus quietly cleared his throat and nodded towards the picture.

"…How long did it take you to learn that?" he asked.

"How to color, or how to draw a raven?" Lotus shrugged.

"How long did it take you to regain proper finger control and sustain it for a lengthy period of time?" he clarified, then shook his head. "Ah, how long did it take to learn how to draw without wobbling the crayon?"

A momentary look of confusion blinked away when it was explained more plainly what he meant. Lotus put her crayons into a small wooden carrier. Once they were all put away, she attempted to lay out how everything had been described to her.

"It took a long time. It took I think two months to be really good at it. I started moving my hands around Halloween and I could draw good by Christmas. At first," she started, lifting up his wrist by his sleeve, much to his dismay. "It was like being held up by strings. Then I got better at control, and it was more like..." she paused again to move his fingers around. "Like someone was helping me move like this. And after that, it was like something was in my bones and muscles and it felt… normal. You know. Like nothing was wrong with me anymore. I was so happy I cried. Daddy cried, too. He comes to see me all the time, but usually I can tell he's sad. He was happy that day. I want to keep making him happy so he won't have to think about bad stuff anymore, like the accident. Maybe you can learn faster since you're a grown up!"

"I don't know what that has to do with it. Madam McNair seems to believe that children take to the treatments better." Severus frowned seriously.

"That's because children aren't afraid of tickles and probably you are." Lotus smirked.

"I wouldn't phrase it exactly like that, but I suppose so." he groaned in embarrassment.

"It's better than someone hurting you all the time. Mr. Padmoore tried to get me to be part of _his_ program, and when he told me about it... I bit him. He shouldn't have touched my face. I don't like him." she said quietly.

There was no arguing with that. Lotus put his hand back down on his arm rest and then placed her drawing in his lap. Severus tried to protest, but the girl insisted that it was a gift and that he had to take it with him. He awkwardly cleared his throat and glanced around to seek out the time. Thankfully, one of the attendants came to fetch him for his electric therapy. As he was wheeled away, the child waved farewell. Though he wasn't able to do much, he did manage to twitch a very small wave in return. If a child could learn to draw or write with ease, certainly he could as well. It would likely take some tutoring, but Severus very much looked forward to writing out corrections in the newest editions of _Potions Weekly_.


	11. Chapter 11

After five more exhausting stimulus treatments, Severus found himself more able to sustain his movements, if only for a short period. The sessions were moved to every other _afternoon_ as opposed to waiting until just before the evening meal, which allowed for longer practice hours after completion. Each session, it seemed to take fractionally less time to incite movement. This was relieving in more ways than one. He could feel his strength increasing. He could take care of himself for the better part of the day instead of only being allowed to move between dinner and lights out. He did not have to be bloody tickled so much. Apprehension was a near constant presence in his mind because of it, but there was little to be done about it if it was working, and of course it was. Severus silently prayed that none of the attendants or interns were former students of his. Thus far, he'd not recognized any of them, but people change greatly over time and one could never tell. The shame of it would be unbearable.

Rain pattered heavily against his window late in the afternoon and a slight chill emanated from the pane. If he was cold in Sir Padmoore's facility, he would simply have to deal with it. At Saint Mungo's he would have to wait for someone to check in on his ward. Right now in this moment, he was fully able to wheel himself to the small dresser opposite his bed and fetch out a thick black robe to slip his arms into on his own. Once he was comfortably warm, he wheeled back alongside the window to quietly enjoy the rain.

"You have a visitor, Mr. Snape." Amelia announced, tapping the door before entering with Headmistress McGonagall. "Would you like a tea tray?"

"Yes, if you would." Severus nodded.

The attendant left to set up the beverages as Minerva levitated a chair to sit nearby her former colleague. She settled herself upon it and smoothed out her robes, looking across at the man expectantly. When he said nothing, she sighed.

"I'll take the silence to mean that no further progress has been made?" she murmured softly. "I'm so sorry, Severus. Truly. Perhaps if they'd caught you earlier on things would be different. All the same, if you are still here, they must have some hope for you. Try not to be too discouraged."

Severus let her continue to ramble on with her assumptions for a moment, then lifted his hand and placed it over her mouth.

"You are terribly depressing when you are trying to encourage me." he smirked.

Minerva gasped and took hold of the offending hand, spluttering in disbelief. She wrung his hand in her own, breaking into a delighted smile and very nearly knocked him out of his wheelchair in a powerful embrace of congratulations. Tears began to bead in her eyes, though they were quickly swiped away just before she swatted him with her handbag.

" _How long were you planning on stringing me along like that_? Wicked thing!" the woman huffed, earning only a soft sniff of laughter in return. "Really! This is just… just wonderful, Severus! Now, how much are you able to do?"

Though his finger movements were still slightly shaky, he demonstrated that he could wheel himself to and fro, lean from side to side, and lift or bend his arms with relative ease. She watched, beaming like a proud mother hen. When the tea was brought in, she went to help him drink out of habit, but he insisted that he could do it on his own, if not with perfect grace just yet.

"I cannot possibly describe to you how lovely it is to hold a warm cup of tea for myself." Severus sighed, staring into his beverage and basking in the steam wafting over his face. "I can only sustain it for a number of hours every other day, but it increases by a short bit each time. Even if the movement is not continuous and is still quite shaky, it is a start. The amount of time spent rebuilding the muscles and working the swelling away from my joints over the last couple of weeks has helped a great deal, I think. I don't know how much was gained by my first working under Sir Padmoore, but perhaps quite a bit if I'm able to do this much. I'd rather not give him any credit, but I do have to wonder how slowly it would have come if my limbs had not been forced into movement so many times before, even though it was under severe distress. Both programs have tasked me, but I suppose it has been worth it."

"You _suppose_? Look at yourself!" Minerva exclaimed, then paused to narrow her eyes suspiciously. "By _task_ , what do you mean? They aren't using _Polyjuice Potion_ here as well, are they? I would hate to think-"

"No."

"Oh. Well. How are they getting the reactions? I took one of the pamphlets home, and it barely touched on the process. You aren't being _abused_ in some other way, are you? Don't think I won't say something about it if you are." she frowned.

"Please let it go. I'd rather talk about what is going on _outside_ of this room." Severus groaned. "I suppose you will not be able to visit as often when term begins? Let us make the most of it, if you don't mind."

Without another word, Minerva stood and swiftly walked out of the room. Severus felt the back of his neck prickling in anxiety when he heard a quiet exchanging of words between the Headmistress and a passing attendant, presumably one of his electric therapists; either Donovan or Mel. He'd come to find that the entire day staff consisted only of the three therapists and Madam McNair. Two House Elves assisted with cooking and cleaning. The night shift was covered by three intern medi-witches whom he'd not had an opportunity to speak with or even see as of yet. It was clear by Minerva's expression when she returned to the room that she'd been brought up to speed. She'd insisted on being named his medical proxy after her last visit, so if anything terrible should happen, she could use her best judgement to act on his behalf. Proxies were not covered by patient confidentiality, and could freely be given answers to anything they asked. Her lips were pursed as if holding back everything she wanted to say, though her eyes sparkled with mirth.

" _Not a word_ , Minerva." Severus warned icily.

She raised a hand as if to indicate that she would opt not to speak on it further, turning instead to point out some halfway concealed drawings on the wall next to his window. They were mostly obscured by the curtains, but it was a curious thing to see in his room of all places.

"Where did these come from?" she asked, tapping the bottom-most paper.

"…My dexterity instructor." he coughed.

"Signed _Lotus_? Is it that wee girl I saw in the common area on my way in? She drew pictures for you?" Minerva pressed, quite shocked because children usually aimed to stay as far away from him as possible.

Severus nodded tersely, then gestured to another picture. Side by side on the paper there were two snakes drawn, one decidedly better than the other. The well-drawn serpent was signed _Lotus_ , while the wobbly-looking one was signed _seVerUS_. The Headmistress snorted in laughter, covering her eyes with one hand.

"Your supercilious support is _quite_ appreciated, thank you." Severus remarked irritably. "If you'll excuse me, I'm late to an appointment of throwing myself down the nearest staircase."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure it took a lot of work." the Headmistress amended, trying to get herself under control. "So she is teaching you to better use your fingers, then. In return, I suppose she's asked that you teach her how to brew some sort of unicorn lure?"

"Not exactly."

For the next two hours, the pair was able to pleasantly converse until it became necessary for the Headmistress to take her leave. She'd made it all the way to the front steps when she remembered that she ought to warn Severus that Harry Potter was meaning to come by some time in the near future to discuss something of familial importance. She quickly turned face and marched back to his room, only to be greeted with the sight of a small girl practicing braiding with Severus' hair. He had a long suffering expression which would not have boded well to walk in on, so Minerva decided that she would just owl him at a later point to alert him to the visitation request. She was gone within seconds, if only because it pained her mightily to bottle her amusement.


	12. Chapter 12

With the start of term, visits from Minerva had crawled completely to a halt. Halfway into the third week of September, Severus began to feel the distinct sting of loneliness, even if she had not been absent for very long. He supposed he'd gotten used to more frequent socialization. It came as a mild surprise not long after when an invitation was extended by Lucius Malfoy to take tea in his country estate. It would never do to visit personally in a home for the infirmed. The handful of times he'd appeared in Saint Mungo's during Severus' extended stay there had seen the blonde gentleman with a cloth over his mouth and nose as though terrified he might contract every illness known to wizard kind just by existing in the same location as so many sick people. Lucius was not the sort of man to take no for an answer, and offered a large donation to the clinic in exchange for stealing a patient away for the better part of the day. This was accepted with the exception that an hourly check in via a muggle mobile phone would be necessary.

"What a distasteful trinket." Lucius hissed, turning his gaze to face away from the mobile as Severus called in his first check-in. "You could have sent a floo message or an owl. Do they think we're barbarians with no means of communication out here?"

Severus merely shrugged and stared into the roaring fireplace. Though it exhausted him to the point of needing to fall sleep by no later than half past eight in the evening, he was now able to completely sustain his upper body movement every single day with little to no prompting from outside sources. He'd gained a great deal of his finger function back in working with Lotus to draw pictures and write, though he would not admit that she'd been such a massive help. He wanted it to appear as though he'd done it on his own entirely in the hopes that it would lead down a faster route to working on leg movement.

"So. A grandfather?" Severus hemmed, sitting up straight to change the subject. "How are you and Narcissa feeling about the change?"

"Merlin save you if you call Narcissa a grandmother, Severus." he warned. "My line is secure pending a successful birth. Scorpius will ensure the continuation of the Malfoy name."

"It could be _Scarlett_." Narcissa broke in, handing off her shopping bags to a house elf and sweeping in elegantly to sit next to her husband. "Astoria isn't far enough along to tell which gender."

"As much as you want a living porcelain doll, Narcissa, it will surely be a boy. It has to be." Lucius insisted, leaving his wife to roll her eyes theatrically as she sipped a freshly poured cup of tea.

It became clear to Severus over the course of the next few hours that his friends were suffering a bit from _empty nest syndrome_. As much as they filled their time with trips to Madrid, Paris, or even New York City; as many business ventures as they pursued, they could not stand to be at home for longer than a short period. The country estate had become a more frequented residence. The couple had never been overly affectionate as parents. They'd only come to see how deeply their feelings for Draco ran, far past that of a mere heir, when he'd been put in danger during the war. Their son had his own life now, his own family now, and could only visit sparsely due to the deteriorating condition of his wife's health. Astoria's frailty due to a bloodborne curse meant that a second successful pregnancy was a low possibility. While Draco's parents were not terribly fond of the young woman's ideals in the way of lineage purity, she made their son happy and they would endure for his sake. At least she herself was pure blooded in line with the sacred twenty-eight.

True to his promise, a call was made every hour to the clinic in order to ensure that Severus was still in decent condition after his departure. Finally, Lucius broke a question which he'd been on the verge of asking every time the mobile was put away.

"Is your healer of any relation to Walden Macnair?"

"The surnames are spelled differently, so I suppose not. I wondered that myself until I saw it on the clinic's paperwork." Severus shook his head.

"Are you quite certain? Some people have gone so far as to change up the spelling to avoid prosecution after the Dark Lord's demise. I would never stoop to it, of course, but I could have sworn I recognized the name Felicity McNair from somewhere in the first war. Just in passing, mind you, she wasn't a Death Eater specifically, but I think she was a Death Harbor." Lucius insisted, tapping his cane in thought.

Severus had never had reason to seek out a Death Harbor, a person who sheltered Death Eaters in their home during the war, so there was no way to tell. He could ask, of course, but if _he_ did not care to bring up his past, why should he expect anyone _else_ to?

* * *

A little after seven in the evening, Severus returned by carriage to Madam McNair's facility. His mind buzzed with information, having finally been able to take a glimpse of the outside world away from health care institutions for the first time in over seven years. So much had changed. People were aging and expanding their families. Buildings had been remodeled or demolished. New establishments sprouted like weeds in the surrounding villages. He'd long since abandoned reading articles in _The Prophet_ , both _Daily_ and _Evening_ , but he rather thought it might be wise to pick it up again to follow along with what happened in the present world.

"Enjoy our little excursion, did we?" Sir Padmoore asked cheerily as the coachman assisted in lowering him into his wheelchair on the ground.

Severus frowned. He'd not counted on seeing his former healer any time soon. His jaw set and his expression soured intensely.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"Overseeing. It is dear Felicity's night off, you see. She allows herself one every month. It's a good thing, too! An overworked mind can't see the forest for the trees. You never know what one might miss." Sir Padmoore smiled. "DO come inside. Time to get checked in."

Though he could hardly believe that a man with such wildly different approaches to treatments would be allowed to supervise Madam McNair's patients, Severus could hardly stay outside in the faded light with the temperatures dipping. Begrudgingly, he wheeled to follow inside.

"I heard that you were visiting Lucius Malfoy. Next time, send him my regards, won't you? He keeps me well stocked with the finest Superior Red and I've never _once_ had a bad bottle in the case. The man knows his wine." Sir Padmoore chuckled, lazily checking over some entry paperwork as Severus was redressed in patient attire by one of his electrical therapists. "When I told him you'd dropped out of my program in favor of the slow and steady route, he was awfully surprised. Thought you were made of tougher stuff, I suppose."

"I'm not rising to your bait." Severus replied flatly. "You've checked me in, so kindly bugger off."

Sir Padmoore laughed heartily and slid a chair up next to his ex-patient. He eyed the man up and down, shaking his head in suppressed mirth, but chose not to speak further until the attendant had vacated the room.

"Bait? Why would I need to bait you? You're gone. I've accepted that. I'm here _only_ for my dear friend and colleague, Madam McNair. I wouldn't _dream_ of deviating from her procedures to force anyone back into my waiting arms. I'm here to observe, not to treat or sully her good name. No, no. I owe her a great deal, you see. She was a monumental help in a vast amount of my cases, including yours."

Severus groaned and moved to wheel away so as to avoid speaking with a man he loathed so entirely, but his wheel was jabbed through by the healer's cane to prevent escape.

"One sided conversations are quite boring, don't you find, Mr. Snape? Let's not be rude. You have surely noticed that she isn't wholly human, correct? Not human at all, in fact. Not that I mind. She is terribly useful, so prejudice has never played a factor at all, I promise. Her kind are strictly forbidden to treat the living, because _their_ forte… is death." Sir Padmoore relayed in a delighted whisper. "They're allowed to process witches and wizards in the morgues, or set up burials, and write obituaries for the Ministry. That's all. She is a Death Hoarder, Mr. Snape, by layman's definitions. Creatures like her are used to pick the brains of the dead and retrieve memories. This is useful when cause of death is unclear. She has the memories of a great many people rattling around behind those pretty eyes, not the least of which is the life story for your dearly departed Lily Potter. She processed her body, you know, got it ready for burial. She was still working in the morgue of Saint Mungo's in the early 80's, and _my oh my_ is she useful in cases like yours. How do you think we pulled off such a convincing _Polyjuice_ double, hm? Mannerisms, memories, nicknames…" he paused long enough to drink in the patient's bittering features. "Oho. Now _that_ is a troubling expression, Mr. Snape. You didn't think that she was really all that concerned for your sanity, did you? That she would deny my request? It's exactly as I told you: You are not a person. You are a number."

With a jovial pat to Severus' shoulder, Sir Padmoore strolled out of the room to make his rounds elsewhere. _Death Hoarder_ , not _Death Harbor_ at all. The idea that Madam McNair had more empathy for people was swiftly sinking away within Severus' mind. She must have played the part of Lily herself, otherwise why would Sir Padmoore bring it up? Certainly it was a ploy to upset him. He'd left the original program, and that seemed reason enough to antagonize him. But was it true? How could he possibly sift the lies from moments of honesty when it always seemed that the harsh healer told some muddled form of the truth?

A high shriek interrupted his thoughts. Not yet settled into his bed, Severus wheeled out to see what the commotion was. Out in the common area, Donovan and Mel were gently trying to pry Lotus' hands away from a foot she'd tucked into her lap. The unmistakable scent of burned flesh wafted through the air. Sir Padmoore twirled his cane in one hand, peering over the shoulders of the two attendants and feigning an expression of mild interest. Lotus cried quietly as Mel finally got her to release the blistered foot for examination.

"What have you done?" he hissed at the healer. "These are second degree burns! What is the matter with you?"

"Me? I? Myself? I've done nothing. Don't be absurd." Padmoore scoffed. "I have only just left Mr. Snape's room, so I know nothing more than you do. Let's try to keep that temper in check, hm? _Interesting_ how it made her move, though. I'll make a note in her charts."

Donovan grunted quietly and lifted the child out of her wheelchair so that he might get her healed up away from someone she was afraid of. When Sir Padmoore tried to follow, Mel put out a hand and pressed it firmly to the overseer's chest.

"You're a busy man. We can handle this." the smaller man stated firmly.

Sir Padmoore tried to smoothly argue his way into healing the burn himself, and as he was distracted, Severus wheeled himself to the young girl's empty chair. Upon examination, there was a sheen of residue noted on one of the foot rests. He leaned in to swipe a handkerchief through it and give it a small testing sniff.

"A _Slow Sear Potion_..." Severus announced, drawing attention to himself. "It's all over the left foot rest."

This is the point where Amelia stormed in to demand what had happened. As she caught what Severus had said, she jammed her hands into the pockets of Sir Padmoore's overcoat and pulled out a half empty phial. She examined it while the accused stood still, passive mannerisms still intact.

"Explain this." Amelia snapped, brandishing the bottle in his face.

Sir Padmoore gently eased the container away and shook his head in mock confusion.

"My gracious. There's really nothing to explain, darling, I'm as befuddled as you are. Probably the lid is faulty. Could have dribbled right out of my pocket when I leaned over to check her vitals earlier this evening." he reasoned.

"Get out. I will handle overseeing the evening shift. Go back to your lab rats if you can't contain your enthusiasm _and stop meddling with our data_." Amelia frowned.

"I would love to, _really_ I would, but the problem is that you are not _qualified_ to oversee. My patients are well managed and left to their own devices after a certain point in the night, but yours need constant babysitting. I promised I would stay, and I intend to." Sir Padmoore insisted, pushing the young woman aside to retreat into Madam McNair's private office. "Do us a favor and fix me a pot of tea, won't you?"

Severus could scarcely _breathe_ he was so angry.

"Data…" he repeated softly. "At the end, we are not people, but data?"

Amelia turned to face him, the ghosts of her anger fighting to keep control of her features even as she tried to return to a genial expression. She drew in a breath and released it slowly.

"No. The procedures are data. The reactions are data. The timelines are data. Patients are still people. Don't let a Sir like that one get into your head, Mr. Snape. He's probably trying to set you against us." she sighed. "Are you hungry at all? It's about meal time."

"Only for information. Sir Padmoore mentioned that Madam McNair harbors memories of the dead, and that this information was freely given over for use in my torment in the previous clinic. I would like to know the level of truth behind that. I would also like to know who posed as the deceased." Severus countered. "Surely I am entitled to my own treatment details upon request?"

The attendant drew a hand over her face and motioned for the man to follow her back to his room. Discussing private details out in the open was strictly forbidden when ears of other patients could be nearby. She sat down in the chair next to his bed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't know who partook of the _Polyjuice Potion_. That section is blacked out in your file, so I would have to assume that it was someone who is not an employee of the program. Likely it would have been one of Sir Padmoore's girlfriends if I had to guess, but you didn't hear that from me." Amelia whispered. "Madam McNair _did_ give a comprehensive guide to Lily's character as a consult very early on in your treatment at his request, but back and forth patient differentials are common in difficult cases. Believe it or not, Sir Padmoore has given a great deal of help in ideas for this clinic as well. I know you're upset. I know you view it as a huge invasion of private despair. I don't know if Madam McNair knew where he was going with the information, or if she thought it would be useful in your psyche evaluation, but regardless, it's done. At the time, it seemed to be the next logical step, I'm sure. It worked, or so I've read. Not for long, and not very well, but it worked. It was meant to be a last resort, but he used it much earlier on than anyone could have anticipated."

For a long moment, Severus ran this information over in his mind.

"Did she… at any point… seem remorseful for this collaboration?" he asked finally.

"No," Amelia replied carefully. "Procedures are data, as I mentioned. She gives consults without a second thought because she expects them in return. It may seem cold, but it's all for the greater good. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly. Thank you. I would like to retire for the evening if you would not oppose. I am very tired." he droned.

The woman nodded and helped him into bed, clicking off the light as she departed. Severus remained wide awake in the dark. For hours he mulled over the happenings of the last few months, weighing pros and cons to giving himself over to experimental treatments. He hated Sir Padmoore with a passion, but the man was straightforward in everything he did. He found Madam McNair quite tolerable, but she clearly had no qualms about giving out information of the most personal nature. Severus was exhausted from dealing with underhanded goings-on. He'd had enough. For months he'd been a purely reactionary creature with little control over his own life, but having an afternoon out had shown that his stamina was good enough to make it on his own. He was finished.

As soon as the shift was changing when lights were dimmed for sleep, he heaved himself back into his wheelchair, rolled down the corridors, and out into the open streets at the first sign of a clear shot to get away. No more. He was fed up.


	13. Chapter 13

In retrospect, it would have been a better idea to owl away for a carriage. For two solid hours, Severus had been pushing his wheelchair through the sparsely populated streets in the outskirts of the surrounding villages in hopes of passing an open floo bonfire set by rebellious teens. His energy dwindled dangerously. Arms burning, vision fading at the edges, he pressed on until he'd spotted a late running owlery. For years, his expenses had been drafted out of his retirement pension from Hogwarts, so he'd never needed to withdraw coins for outside reasons. He'd been alerted by the shine of a couple of sickles mixed into some leaves in a gutter and it was just enough to send one message through. Strangely enough, it wasn't to call a carriage, but he viewed it as important all the same.

"I'll have this sent out right away." the messenger clerk promised, tying off the scroll to a large tawny owl. "We're, ah… about to close up for the night. Is there someone coming to pick you up? Do you need an apparation-assist to Saint Mungo's?"

Yes, Severus was still in patient attire and it made him stick out quite a bit. All the same, he absolutely did _not_ want to return to Saint Mungo's. He shook his head tiredly.

"No. But if you would not be opposed to it, there is somewhere else I would like to be transported." Severus replied, ashamed to ask for help even if he needed it badly.

Certainly he would never take a complete stranger directly to his personal home, but apparating down the block from it would do well enough. After assuring the young man that this was indeed where he'd intended to end up, he bid him good evening and promised to send in a good review to the owlery supervisor to return the favor. He hated feeling indebted, after all.

Most of the streetlights lining the roadways of Spinner's End were broken or shot out, but Severus could have navigated the dingy pathways in his sleep. He was about to turn the knob on the door to his home when a cane cracked down on the back of his chair and yanked him backwards from his sanctuary.

"I knew you'd end up here, I juuuust knew it." Sir Padmoore chuckled softly. "Creatures of habit do fall back on the most questionable things. WELL. Your three-month contracted period is up, so if you'd like to quit, legally, I can't stop you. I'm glad that you didn't quit whilst in _my_ program, because I have to keep my success rates up, you know. But I'm afraid that wheelchair is the property of our clinics, and I just can't let you scoot away with it, old bean."

The healer snorted a quiet laugh and tipped the chair so that Severus would crumple hard to the ground. With an angry curse, Severus swiped a hand out at Sir Padmoore's ankle, hoping to drag him down to his level for a fight, but in his weakened state he was not fast enough. Sir Padmoore grinned and began cheerfully walking away with the chair.

"I'll let you keep the clothes, Mr. Snape. A parting gift. Don't say I never did anything for you!" he called over his shoulder.

For a few seconds, Severus rested his head against the wood of his front door, panting with effort. The chilled air blew over his sweat beaded face and sent a shiver running through his chest. He had to get into the house before he passed out. It took everything he had, but he knocked on the correct bricks, turned the knob the correct amount of times, and whispered the password to open up his flat. He crawled in on his hands and elbows, shoved the door closed, and immediately blacked out on the floor.

* * *

Blearily, Severus opened his eyes to mere slits. He'd expected coldness, aching muscles, and darkness. Surely he would have slept straight through to the next evening, but it was midday at best. Perhaps his strength had improved more than he thought. And when had he made it into his bed? A small cough alerted him to the presence of another in his home.

"Who's there?!" he demanded angrily.

A house elf who'd been carrying a tray of soup and milk squeaked in fear, and cowered behind the door frame of Severus' bedroom. Bulbous eyes were wide with shock, but eventually the creature stepped cautiously forward.

"I… I was sent f-from Hogwarts? By Headmistress, sir! She is wanting me to keep an eye on you until she gets here." the elf whispered anxiously. "You were waking… so I made you some lunch."

"Professor McGonagall sent you? How did she know I was here? And did you clean? This house has been vacant for years! There should be dust! What did you touch?!" Severus snapped.

Naturally he was furious that someone he was not acquainted with had been let into his home, but as he went to throw his hands in the air with disgust, he found that he could scarcely budge them. Now he was angry for an additional reason. Immobility. Again.

"I didn't move anything! Only dusting and wiping down and making the bed fresh is all! Creely promises!" the elf cried earnestly. "Headmistress looked for you when you goes missing from your healers! You goes missing for three days before she finds you! That was seven days past, sir… Creely took care of you at Headmistress' request. Sir nearly froze to death…"

Ten days. He'd been out for _ten days_. No wonder he couldn't move. His eyes burned, threatening tears of frustration over losing his progress. Who knew how long it would take to get back to where he'd been on his own! Severus refused to cry in front of the house elf, though, and regretfully allowed the small being to assist in feeding him. The crackling fire in the grate gave off a pleasant warmth. He was thankful not to have been conscious during the cold evenings which had nearly snuffed away his life, but it was a misery to think that he'd lost so much valuable time.

It was not until the next evening that Minerva was able to come by. A Sunday, Severus calculated. Probably she'd had to stay onsite at the school the previous day to handle any issues from a Hogsmeade outing. It gave him time to think about what he would say, and how he would reason out his choice for leaving. The way the Headmistress worked, it was quite unclear what to expect. She would either be heavily sympathetic or unreasonably furious if he had to guess. He'd come to find that he could clench and unclench his fists, but that was the extent of his capabilities for the time being. As it was the only thing he could do, he kept practicing until he could lift his wrists by a fractional amount, but even that was exhausting.

"You couldn't send an owl to have someone come and get you? What were you thinking? You could have _died_ , Severus!" she snapped.

"I am well aware that it was not perfectly thought out. Circumstances arose that prompted swift action." Severus replied, allowing the woman to assist in his drinking a cup of tea. "I found out that Madam McNair gave Sir Padmoore all of Lily's information, and if you'll excuse me, I'm tired of being the world's punching bag."

Completely contrary to what he'd assumed would happen, the Headmistress kept a passive expression. She sat the teacup on his bedside table with a soft _clink_ and shook her head. This was not news to her. She'd obviously looked into the situation.

"Madam McNair owled me the morning after you left, asking if I'd seen you. Lucius Malfoy's coachman confirmed that you'd been dropped off at the clinic. Sir Padmoore was not available for questioning. He was holed up in his own clinic somewhere and did not respond to queries from either the staff or myself. Both clinics had to be shut down entirely for two days by the Ministry of Magic because they'd received an anonymous owl suggesting that child abuse was something of a concern and it prompted an investigation. I don't suppose you know anything about that?" Minerva prompted, only receiving a self-satisfied smirk in response. "At any rate, by the time we'd thought to check here, you were barely alive."

Severus would never admit to sending an owl on Lotus' behalf. Anyone who asked would be met with a scoff and an impressive eye roll. As much as the girl irritated him, she'd been a great deal of help in his recovery. She was untainted with knowledge of his previous life, so she treated him with the same curiosity and eagerness that might be shown towards a new friend in the making. He found that he loathed her less and less each day. She didn't deserve to be burned.

"After speaking with Amelia and Madam McNair, it seems that Sir Padmoore had led everyone to believe that knowing more about Lily was listed as part of your psyche evaluation so that he could determine the level of your depression and anxiety factors. _Polyjuice Potion_ was to be used as a last resort, but Madam McNair fully admitted to knowing of the possibility of his using it. As Amelia told you, she views it as part of the other clinic's procedures and while she doesn't promote it, she will not apologize for her part in it." she continued. "As appalling as that is… you should go back. Finish the program and _then_ be angry about it. You'd made so much progress. I've requested that they keep the room open for you at least a little longer."

"You're joking." Severus scoffed. "I'll figure it out on my own."

"No. No you won't. You can be as cross with me as you like, but when we signed off on my being your medical proxy, it deemed me able to make decisions on your behalf when you are compromised. Making the choice to run off and spend ten days blacked out has compromised you." Minerva sniffed. "You will be returning this evening. I am capable of understanding how difficult it is for you, but right now you will need to set aside your pride and finish what you've started. Whether you like it or not. You'll thank me later."


	14. Chapter 14

It was with no small amount of loathing that Severus found himself being wheeled back into the very facility he'd worked so hard to escape from. He didn't want to be there, and certainly the staff would be annoyed at all the trouble which had come from his disappearance. There was nothing positive about the situation in his eyes. He stared sulkily at the floor and refused to speak when Minerva tried to spark up any sort of distracting conversation in attempts to bear his mind towards better thoughts. No matter how much she thought she was helping, he'd never been more inclined to shove an elderly lady down the nearest staircase.

"You are acting like a toddler, Severus." the Headmistress groaned. "People who've made mistakes can still do great things. You ought to know that well enough. You don't have to forgive them, but you _do_ have to work with them. It would be easier if you weren't being so off-putting. _Do_ make an effort."

While she didn't particularly mean to sound quite so harsh, Minerva was wearing thin on patience after three hours without a single word from the man. Her Gryffindor impatience was starting to peek through as much as she tried to keep it at bay. She felt sympathy for his situation, of course, but the benefits of returning to finish treatment outweighed the drawbacks. After all, they'd been kind to him at this particular clinic for the most part.

"Mr. Snape!"

Severus looked up wearily just in time to see Lotus running at him, full tilt, teetering like a baby giraffe on its feet for the first time. She braced against the wall here and there, but was far too delighted to be discouraged when she knocked into things. The girl tripped and wobbled, finally falling against him, nearly knocking the wheelchair grips out of Professor McGonagall's hands. The child giggled quietly and gave the surprised man a quick hug before standing up properly. At the moment, he was too shocked to be annoyed; both by the embrace and by the fact that Lotus could run.

"Did you see? I started walking last week, and now I can run some!" the girl squealed happily. "I can go home with my daddy at the end of the month!"

Even if he was irritated to high heaven at being stuck where he was, he forced an approving nod so as not to cause a further scene. Thankfully, the girl seemed to have other things to do and offered a small wave before cantering off in another direction. Lotus having the chance to leave soon was a good thing. No nettlesome children to follow him around, or to clutter his room with pictures, or to practice writing with, or to keep him company when he was lonely, or to… No. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the idea that he might miss her… even a tiny bit. How stupid. He would never.

"I'll find someone to check you in. Won't be a moment." Minerva quipped, parking the wheelchair next to the common area window. "Try not to get into any fights."

Exactly how Severus would manage to do such a thing was beyond him. He rolled his eyes and stared out the window with a deadpan expression, as a bird who'd accepted that he'd never fly in the open air again. He didn't even notice the other two patients staring at him. He'd barely had a word with them, as they were often busied by visitors or their friendly gambling. The gentleman pushed his wheelchair to sit alongside him, and the young woman hobbled close with her cane.

"That was nice, sending that note on Lotus' behalf when she was burned." the young woman, Sarah, commented. "Don't try to deny it, either. Nobody else was here."

"A lot of good it did. I heard that Sir Padmoore has shut himself away to avoid questioning." Severus grunted in annoyance.

"Not quite." Sarah chuckled. "I didn't have a chance to see, but Cecil did. He isn't available because he is still _recovering_."

"Recovering?" Severus prompted.

"Mm. I caught sight of quite the row between Madam McNair and Sir Padmoore the morning after you left. As soon as she came in from her night off, the other therapists let her know what happened. Then there was a sort of gibberish in a language I couldn't quite understand, and next thing you know, Sir Padmoore was… well, he didn't scream. Too used to pain, I think. But there was some sort of noise and then both his arms were dislocated at the shoulder. It was rather funny. He said that he could see that she was upset and he would attempt to talk things out when she was in a better mood. Then he just… noodle-arm strolled out of here. I nearly coughed up a lung laughing!" the elder man grinned. "Madam McNair was quite embarrassed to have been caught in an unprofessional moment, but I think everyone in here was happy to see it."

Well, _now_ Severus wished he'd stayed at least long enough to have seen the spectacle, but all in all it was difficult to overlook how irritated he was with the female healer. He didn't particularly want to see her, and sorely hoped that she would not be the one to check him in. Wish granted for the moment, Minerva returned shortly thereafter with Mel trailing behind with a clip board. The other two patients took this as a sign to make themselves scarce and bid everyone goodnight. Minerva followed them with her eyes, intending to mark which rooms they retired to down the corridor as an excuse not to look at her friend.

With a resigned sigh, Severus responded to a small questionnaire and consented to a brief physical to speed things along. All he wanted to do was lie back and retreat into the dark abyss of a dreamless sleep. He didn't want to face anyone or answer for his actions in the slightest. His reasoning for leaving the way he had was nobody's business but his own. As the time for lights out was swiftly approaching, he was thankful that the Headmistress would be taking her leave.

"I will owl you every day to check on your condition. If I don't hear back from you, I will either come down here directly, or send someone on my behalf. For days you cannot write, have someone pen it for you with the code words we've agreed on so I know that it has been dictated by you personally. Do we have an understanding?" Minerva asked pointedly.

Severus gave the barest of nods. It seemed that he was still intent not to speak directly to her. The woman gave an exasperated sigh, patted his shoulder, and strode out to disapparate away. Mel quietly wheeled the man to his room and assisted in putting him to bed.

"You've got some catching up to do, but I think you'll be alright. Can I get you anything, or are you all set for now?" the therapist asked kindly.

"I'm fine." Severus sighed.

"You don't look fine. But I'll take your word for it." Mel frowned.

"I would only request that your boss be kept away from me, at least for the evening…" he amended.

"Really don't much think you have to worry about that. Goodnight, mate."

The lights snuffed themselves out to leave Severus in the dark, familiar room. He could still make out the silhouettes of various objects in his living space from faint light leaking in under the door, so he mentally check-marked everything that could be seen as a means of lulling himself to sleep. Assurances of routine in his environment aided in setting his mind at ease. Other people might count sheep. He counted breaths, heartbeats, items around him, footsteps in the hallways, and anything else that could possibly be measured if one paid attention. As luck would have it, he didn't see Madam McNair at all that night, and was thus granted a peaceful rest.

Strangely enough, he also did not see her for for the next five days following, either. From time to time, he could hear her voice in the common area, but never did he catch sight of the woman. At first, it was a relief. Then he began to suspect that his case was becoming less important if she was no longer going to oversee his progress. The other three therapists were working tirelessly to get him back up to speed, which was exhausting to say the least. He went through water exercises, electric therapy, and stimulus treatments daily instead of breaking things up the way they'd been in the past. It left him surly, moreso than usual, but for the time being he chose to keep his comments to himself in order to ensure he'd make it back on schedule to begin leg work soon. By the fifth evening, he could maintain nearly all of the movement he'd previously been capable of, so his small coma had not been too bad of a setback, thankfully.

Each day, as expected, Minerva messaged him. He would respond with a mere, ' _Yes'_ or, ' _Alright'_ and send the owl back on its way, much to the Headmistress's annoyance. She had expected him to cool off a bit more by now. In truth, he had. It was hard _not_ to lose a bit of steam considering the floods of endorphins coursing through his system as an effect of his treatment. To remain angry was difficult, even for those who held a talent for it. Even so, his dour expressions were nearly impossible to completely displace, even if he did feel less horrid.

"I won't be here for the next couple of days. It's a vacation period for the therapists." Amelia announced at the end of the day.

Severus cocked an eyebrow and tilted back to look at her questioningly from the bed. He'd just finished arranging the covers over himself, smoothing where they'd been rumpled from light thrashing during his evening stimulus. He cleared his throat and folded his hands in his lap to regain the illusion of dignity as he made a rather obvious inquiry.

"And what am I to do whilst the lot of you are out? Is this a break in treatment as well?" he asked mildly.

"No, no. You'll still be on your schedule. In fact, I think you're starting legs tomorrow. That should go well, I think, since we always work legs at least a little in the pool. That's exciting, hm?" she smiled, patting his knee. "Madam McNair will be covering everything herself. Before you get all fussed over it, Mr. Snape, just take a breath. It's going to be alright. If you have concerns, voice them. If your temper gets the better of you, ask for a moment to sort your thoughts. I know you're still a bit knotted over how things have fallen out, but you need to move on from it if you want to progress."

Before he could vocalize an argument, she'd shut him down. It wouldn't be fair to protest. As far as he could tell, the three therapists worked every single day with few exceptions. Their weariness was evident. To be made to endure several days on his own with Madam McNair, though… Oh, he was not looking forward to it. With Amelia, Donovan, and Mel, he felt that he still maintained a sense of authority. If he asked them not to do something, or to leave him on his own, they usually did. Madam McNair did not suffer his complaining. She could quiet him with a look, which was highly irritating, and he didn't quite understand it. Perhaps it had something to do with the nature of Fae people. Regardless, he was going to have to face her. There were so many questions he ached to ask, but knew better than to try. Probing her for Lily's locked up memories was a temptation that called to him like a siren song, but he knew how dangerous it could be to open that particular can of worms. How she must judge him. How she must loathe him. As much as he wanted to loathe her in return, it was difficult when he knew that someone he cared so deeply for was drifting around in the labyrinth of her mind.


	15. Chapter 15

All the extra treatments in his regimen which had been used to get the poor man up to speed were clearly taking their toll, as he did not awaken at all during the night, nor did he notice anyone entering his room to leave a note atop his chest as he slumbered. When he finally let his eyes flicker open, everything seemed normal, save for a small itching sensation at his chin where the corner of a square of stationary drifted over his faint stubble. His brows knit in faint irritation and the sleep addled mind bent his will to shift his fingers to grip the edges and hold the parchment up. It seemed to be a new schedule. This was to be expected if Madam McNair would be working alone, so the man simply laid it on the nightstand and began to go over possible scenarios of their upcoming interactions. For the time being, Severus would remain stoic and as civil as he was capable of.

Alerted by the magical sleep wave monitors, one of the two house elves in charge of the meal dispersion popped into being at the door and gave it a soft tap. It was nearly like pulling teeth trying to get Severus to accept food with the way his stomach roiled with anxiety. Somehow the squeaky voiced creature managed to beg him into taking some buttered toast and orange juice, but even a little was worth something to start the day with. Not all of it stayed down after the elf had disappeared, though he'd managed to shift into his wheelchair and make it to the washroom before emptying the contents of his stomach.

 _Better to stick to a cup of chamomile,_ he thought as he swished his mouth out with water and spat the acidic backwash into the sink. To avoid suspicion, he made busy and set to shaving. It was a very zen sort of action for the sallow man, and one he was greatly relieved to be able to do on his own. His face had gone mostly unmaintained whilst under Sir Padmoore's care, save for patches of hair that burned away during his torments. Now he could look somewhat respectable on his own terms, and it was something that he didn't take for granted. Every morning he made sure that he was perfectly clean shaven before his day truly began.

At nine sharp, Severus turned to see Madam McNair bustling in with a small case. As predicted, she was avoiding eye contact in favor of setting out the electrode equipment. No nonsense, no conversation, just focusing on the business at hand. There seemed to be considerably less to set up. She'd only laid out the leads and adjusted a chair next to her patient's bed. They were slightly different than what he'd previously been accustomed to: one end of each lead was tipped with a short needle, capped to avoid germs.

His stomach gave another nervous squirm. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with pins and electrocuted that way. He'd never been fond of needles. There seemed nothing tolerable about them. All the same, he swallowed soundlessly and gripped the bedside pully to hoist himself up onto the bed without a word. Normally, he would inquire as to the procedure, but considering how neither of them were keen to break the silence, he kept his mouth closed and stared straight forward to avoid looking at the instruments.

"Do you want a book?" the healer asked tersely.

"…What?"

"A book. Do you want one to pass the time?" she repeated.

Severus gave a small nod. Usually he would listen to the two male attendants talk animatedly about everything from the last world quidditch cup, to watching an old wizard get punched in the arse for stepping on a goblin in the pub. He rarely participated in the conversations, but it kept his mind from zoning in on his aching muscles. The stark silence was uncomfortably awkward. Still, he didn't say a word as he was passed a book of collected C.S. Lewis works. His trousers were rolled up to the point they nearly resembled short-shorts, leaving him looking quite comical. The electrodes were attached painlessly at various points on his pale legs. No needles for his end, it seemed, so he peeked over the top of his book to see what they were for. It was in this way that he noticed Madam McNair shedding her healer's cloak and rolling up the sleeves of her work blouse. She carefully attached the leads directly into her arms. Small, faintly blue bruises dotted around the crook of her forearms indicated she'd been stuck quite a bit recently. All at once, Severus' muscles began to twitch wildly with a slightly stronger wave of electric pulse than he was used to. He instinctively reached out for his legs, only to be swatted away.

"Don't touch." the woman said firmly.

Though it took a great deal of self-control, Severus leaned back against his pillows with a frown and tried to concentrate on his book. After nearly twenty minutes, he tossed it down beside him with a rustling snap.

"Why are you charging the spell that way? Why not use a wand?" he asked, deciding to be annoyed rather than frightened over the intensity.

"Because fae folk are not allowed wands." she replied. "Even if I can trick the layman into believing that I am a common witch, a skilled wandsmith would know the difference in the way the instrument would react to my touch. You may as well make peace with doing it this way for now."

It wasn't only that he was directly tethered up to the woman, or that his muscles were really starting to smart. He didn't want to be in proximity to certain memories; to be hated or pitied because of them; to be uncertain of what was going on behind the eyes of someone he would have to endure so much time with.

"Maybe if you took a moment to view it from my perspective, it would not be so difficult to understand why this is uncomfortable." Severus grumped.

Madam McNair gave the patient a long, hard stare. Though her expression was mainly passive, there was a hint of lost patience in the fractional quirk of her brow.

"Mr. Snape, I have the memories, opinions, and personalities of over five hundred individuals copied into my mind. I am _drowning_ in perspective. If you think for a moment that I do not consider all angles of everything I do, you need to reevaluate how you've come to that conclusion. It is quite faulty."

Severus opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, realizing that he'd nothing cohesive to respond with. He glared off to one side as the leads were swiftly detached and packed away. _Merlin, why was this so difficult?_ He began to roll the trousers back down to occupy himself and avoid further conversation.

"I will return in ninety minutes to fetch you for water therapy." Madam McNair announced over her shoulder as the door snapped shut behind her.

The man dragged his hands through his hair in exasperation. This was going to be a long few days.

* * *

"Maybe you should make her a sorry card?" Lotus suggested.

Severus squinted at the child, wondering how she'd come to that conclusion. He moved one of the black tokens on the checker board and waited for his opponent to make her move.

"…Why?" he asked bluntly.

"Because you ran away and made everyone worry." Lotus answered, as if it were obvious. "And when the Ministry came by, it was really scary. They shut me in a room and a mean lady kept asking questions over and over about what happened the night you left and I got hurt. They said daddy was a bad person for putting me in here, and that's not true. I like it here. I miss him, but we'll be together soon. Why'd you leave?"

When the girl shuffled her red token into a corner, he did the same on the opposite side of the board to protect his piece and set up a jump on the next turn.

"Because I'm tired of being upset. I found out that Madam McNair gave Sir Padmoore some information that he used to upset me, and I don't care for being jerked around." Severus sneered.

"I'm afraid to go in the pool…" Lotus admitted quietly. "I never learned to swim, and I cried a lot the first few times they put me in for water stretches. But they didn't do it to be mean. They did it to make me better. I'm afraid every time, but I don't cry anymore because I know I have to be brave to get strong. You just gotta be brave, too. Like the man said."

Lotus frowned and pushed another piece out to block a black token in a very obvious means to jump two spaces in the next turn.

"What man?" Severus asked suspiciously.

"He said his name was Harry. He was looking for you here after you left, and I said you ran away, and he said he didn't think it was running away cuz there has to be another reason, and I said how come, and…" Lotus stopped her run-on sentence to gasp for air. "He said it's cuz you're the bravest man he ever knew, even if you are kind of a weenie sometimes."

Severus stared stupidly at the child opposite of him. Ignoring that he couldn't remember ever having been called a _weenie_ before, it was difficult to believe that Harry, presumably Potter, had come to his defense in the subject of bravery. For reasons unknown, he didn't move away from Lotus' trap in their checkers game. He moved to a spot where he could catch up in the next turn. She squeaked happily and jumped two of his tokens. He feigned confusion at her small triumph.

"Ahem. I am not… very good at _apologizing_." he sighed, defeated.

"That's okay. I can help you. I get to be Madam McNair's assistant later. I'll let you know when you're saying something dumb." Lotus grinned.

"… _Thhhhhhhank you_." Severus hissed, giving the beaming child a deadpan stare.

* * *

When he was ushered out of his room into the pool area, Severus kept a neutral mask, silent as he thought over what he ought to say to begrudgingly make peace. Lotus laying out the obvious that sometimes one had to suck it up and bear through things that upset them for the greater good in conjunction with Harry's declaration… well, it was a harsh reminder that he'd gone through worse. The only difference in this situation: the greater good was for _his_ benefit. At the end of this _he_ would be able to walk and regain his independence completely. _He_ would have a chance to move forward in _his_ life however _he_ so pleased.

In his rashness, he'd compromised the care of several other patients, which in turn had angered his healer. As annoyed as he was with how his treatment had gone, the only way to alleviate the tenseness in the air was to bite the bullet and figure out how to calm the storm.

Per the norm, the water was comfortably warm. He went through the routine arm exercises that he usually practiced with Amelia, and then rested in the submerged chair as Madam McNair set up a device he was not yet familiar with. He idly swished the water with one hand as he waited. When she'd finished, she helped him into a standing position in water that was chest-deep, and strapped him into an apparatus which would keep him upright. It had wheels at the sides of his feet, and rods running up his legs.

"One arm on the edge of the pool, one arm on my shoulder. We're going to move forward and get you used to this upright position." Madam McNair advised.

Severus shakily adjusted himself to grip the edge of the pool as he balanced on his still-useless legs. He hesitated in resting his other hand on the healer's shoulder as instructed, so she firmly took his wrist to guide it into place. He swallowed and looked away to nothing in particular as they moved slowly along the side of the pool, back and forth.

"I apologize."

His eyes snapped around to lock with Madam McNair's, who's expression had not shifted from the usual unreadable façade. Had _she_ been the one to apologize?

"Though the information was used for the greater good, I am capable of empathizing with your distress. I apologize that you were emotionally harmed more than necessary." the healer finished.

Dumbfounded, Severus could only stare, struggling to find words that would not come. He slid his hand away from her shoulder and braced both hands on the edge of the pool. She didn't seem to expect a response anyway. Silently, she assisted in getting the man out of the pool and wheeled him into the side room to be dressed out for lunch with the assistance of the two house elves.

* * *

"What's a _prat_?" Lotus asked, peeking over his shoulder as Severus attempted to pen the closest thing to an apology he could muster.

"I am." Severus muttered, causing the other two patients to burst out laughing in the common area.

"It's not a very nice word, Lotus. Your dad wouldn't want you repeating it." Cecil advised through his chortling.

Severus jolted in place when the door snapped open and Madam McNair swept in briskly. She began assisting Sarah out towards the pool area when she noticed that Severus had dropped the paper he'd been writing on, and that it was addressed to her. She stooped to pick it up before he could snatch it away and narrowed her eyes at the simple message.

 _'Sorry I'm a prat._

 _-Severus Snape'_

"What exactly is a _prat_ , Mr. Snape?" Madam McNair asked dubiously, causing a second uproar from the other adults.

He groaned and wheeled himself back to his room.


	16. Chapter 16

Shortly after the evening meal, a sharp tap came at his door and Severus grunted permission to enter, setting aside his book and smoothing his sleeves out of habit. He was surprised to see that Lotus was trailing behind Madam McNair, her normally unruly hair swept up into a professional looking bun. She'd been given a clip board and a healer's cloak, though it was far too big on her and dragged behind on the floor. He'd forgotten that she'd been assigned as an 'assistant', though he'd assumed that it had meant she would be given some meaningless task as busy work to keep her occupied and out of trouble.

"Red, blue, silver, or black?" Lotus asked in an important, uppity tone.

"…What?"

"You have to pick a color, Mr. Snape!" Lotus groaned. "Red, blue, silver, or black?"

"Ugh. I…? Black. I don't know." he replied uncertainly.

"Good choice." Lotus nodded.

Madam McNair held a slightly bemused expression as the bottom half of his sheet and blanket were rolled up to pile on his lap and Lotus clambered up onto the foot of the bed. The child fished in her pocket and pulled out a small black phial. Nail polish. They had to be joking. It seemed not. Lotus unscrewed the cap and began to apply the paint to his toenails.

"What the hell is going on?" Severus demanded.

"If you don't want her to paint, pull away." Madam McNair shrugged.

He felt his left eye working a twitch.

"Lotus. Put that away immediately." he insisted, his tone darkening more by the second.

"I can't. It's my job." Lotus smiled sweetly.

Before he could snap from humiliation, Madam McNair leaned down to speak lowly in his ear.

"I rather thought you might like to relive a better memory or two." she whispered.

Severus looked at the woman as though she'd been speaking in tongues. What was she talking about? It didn't click until Lotus spoke again.

"Nobody's gonna see as long as you wear socks. It's cold outside anyway, Sev. You're supposed to be wearing socks." Lotus recited as she worked. "If you're worried your daddy might see, I have stuff that takes it off, too."

It was like being hit in the face with a mop. In a flood of nostalgia, Severus found his mind flickering back to the Evans' house: nine years old, sitting on the floor in his ill-fitting clothes, at least three sizes too big, as Lily propped his foot on her leg to paint his toenails. He'd entirely forgotten about that. She'd wanted to practice, and he'd somehow allowed himself to be roped in as a volunteer since Petunia was giving them both the silent treatment. He was brought out of his thoughts as the last toenail was finished and Lotus was excused. The girl passed over the nail polish and waved farewell, retiring back to her room for the evening. Madam McNair pocketed the paint and looked at Severus expectantly.

"What else do you remember about that night?" she inquired when he said nothing.

"…I'm not sure. I think I had gone to her house and the snow picked up?" he responded uncertainly.

Madam McNair nodded and touched a finger to his forehead. The room around him melted away, shifting into the exact memory he'd just been trying to recall.

 _Youthful Severus sat on the floor, feet stinging with cold. His holey, beaten shoes were stuffed off into the corner next to a heating unit to dry from walking in the slush to meet Lily for their playdate._

 _"_ _Go sit by the heater, Sev. Your feet are like ice cubes! Where's your coat?" Lily asked innocently._

 _"_ _I forgot it at home…" Severus mumbled sheepishly, though it was a lie, as he had no winter coat. "Guess I was excited to come play?"_

 _The little redhead grinned back at him and gave a gentle shove towards the heater. Not wanting to part from the girl, but also desperate to warm up, he scooted across the floor and hugged his knees to his chest next to the radiating heat. Once he was nearly swooning from comfort, Lily sat down to join him, setting out a small collection of nail paints._

 _"_ _Red, blue, silver, or black?" she asked brightly._

 _"_ _Uh…? Black. What for?" he winced._

 _"_ _Tuney won't let me practice. She's mad today…"_

 _"_ _She's mad every day." Severus interjected._

 _"_ _Well… most days, maybe. But I'm all wobbly when I try to paint my own, and I was hoping you'd let me try and paint your toenails?" she asked hopefully._

 _"_ _I… Lily, I really don't…"_

 _"_ _Nobody's gonna see as long as you wear socks. It's cold outside anyway, Sev. You're supposed to be wearing socks. If you're worried your daddy might see, I have stuff that takes it off, too. Please?" Lily peeped. "I really need to practice to get better at it."_

 _"_ _Nnnn… fine. But you have to take it off after!" he relented. "And you can't tell!"_

 _Lily squeaked happily and propped up her friend's foot on her leg, careful to keep near enough to the heater that they could both be comfortable. It wasn't particularly drafty in the house, but extra coziness was always pleasant for children who chilled easily, as they did. The little girl was slow-going and meticulous in her efforts, even if they still held a small wobble from unpracticed hands. For the most part, Lily kept fairly neat in her painting, though here and there she would accidentally slip and paint skin. Easily fixed with a cotton bud or scratching it away with the tip of her nail. She had to re-paint several times because this would make him scrunch his toes, smearing more paint so they were in a near endless loop of fixing mess-ups, and gaining more mess-ups from wiggling. Before long, Severus was squirming in fits of helpless laughter as Lily abandoned the paint and outright tickled his feet while trying desperately to avoid revenge fingers._

 _Shortly thereafter, Lily's mother appeared and smiled softly at the cheerful scene of playing children._

 _"_ _Severus, I've rung your mother. You'll be staying with us tonight. The storm is really picking up and it wouldn't be good to go out into it. You two can make a sheet tent in the parlor if you like." the woman announced._

 _"_ _I… but I don't…" Severus shifted uncomfortably, coming down from his giggle fit._

 _"_ _You may borrow some pajamas. It's alright." Mrs. Evans insisted softly._

 _The boy swallowed and quickly averted his eyes to the floor, but nodded to show that he understood. The late afternoon passed all too quickly with the children playing Toss Across, or pretending the floor was lava and that standing on squares of paper would protect them from impending doom. They almost didn't notice Petunia looking down her nose at them from the door and snippily announcing that supper was ready and that they had to wash up and come downstairs._

 _The next two hours were a blur of pot roast, sweets, floral smelling soaps in a quick shower, and soft green pajamas which Petunia had outgrown. Severus sat opposite of Lily in their fort of sheets and sofa cushions, showing her how to make an origami bird flap its wings on its own. She beamed happily when she managed to make it work, glad to be able to share this sort of fun with her raven haired friend. The nail polish had not come off in the shower, of course, so Lily set to work on scrubbing it away with a small bottle of varnish remover. Through squeaks and wiggles from 'accidental' brushes of fingertips over feet, Severus requested that she leave a single nail painted. He would claim that he'd stubbed it hard and that it had gone black naturally if anyone asked._

When the world snapped back into the present moment as Madam McNair pulled her finger away from Severus' forehead, he found himself weak with mirth, sides aching from laughter, eyes beaded with tears, and feet tingling from the residual feeling left behind from the memory. His legs were bent and had clearly moved a bit in protest. It had seemed so real. When he'd calmed slightly, he cleared his throat and tried to keep the slight embarrassment from his tone.

"So, you've… that was a memory you'd seen. What made you think on it?" he wondered aloud.

"When I am in proximity of you, her memories become contextual to whatever situation we are in. There was another that came up from the summer when you were ten, where she frequently pretended there were spiders on your person as an excuse to fiddle with the backs of your knees. As I understand it, this continued on for a fair few years. So it would have been something along those lines to show you if not the polish memory. But I think you'd do well to ease through the rest of your night with a book or a shower and head to bed. Goodnight, Mr. Snape." Madam McNair smiled quietly, folding his blanket back down into place.

A single toenail was still painted black, mirroring the memory.

For the first time in ages, Severus was welling with a confused sort of happy contentment. He'd been able to vividly recall a sweet forgotten memory, he'd successfully moved his legs a small amount, and he wasn't sick with anxiety from his living situation. He felt… good? Yes. That is what this was.

"Wait," he called.

Madam McNair paused with her hand on the door knob and looked back at him questioningly.

"Why did you show the memory to me?" Severus asked from impulse.

The healer shook her head slightly, clearly not keen to speak plainly.

"Why indeed~?" she hemmed, quietly taking her exit.

* * *

 _Author's note: I should be back to posting more regularly now that life is not quite as busy (I've just gotten married). As a thank you for the patience, I've released two chapters today. Have a wonderful evening~_


	17. Chapter 17

Four more days passed in the fashion of Severus reliving memories rather than enduring his stimulus treatments with a conscious mind. If not for the askew fashion in which he always found his body upon coming back to the present moment, he never would have known that any movement had occurred at all. Perhaps it hadn't. In truth, there was no way of knowing. He surmised that it would not be beneath Madam McNair to prop him up to produce the illusion of movement in order to elicit a placebo effect of sorts. If he _believed_ that he could move his legs via wandless magics, perhaps he could. Naturally, this was where his mind began to drift as the idea of any progress was difficult to process if no discernible proof could be provided.

Still, the attendants had not returned from their outing. While he'd assumed that a couple of days would indicate perhaps two, he began to wonder how long they were in fact intending to be away. It wasn't as though he particularly cared about their comings and goings. He enjoyed his solitude. That was part of what he was currently enjoying with Madam McNair's rounds: when she was finished with whatever therapy she carried out, she left. Other patients needed to be tended. If there was any care as to his loneliness, there was little evidence. Either that, or she understood that he did not wish to be badgered more than what was absolutely necessary. Whatever the case may have been, he was hardly concerned beyond more than a simple curiosity.

A knock at the door caused him to look up from the notes he was squinting over.

"You should wear glasses for reading, Mr. Snape." Lotus commented, strolling through the door with a bright smile.

Severus rolled his eyes. He didn't want to make himself appear any older than he actually was by wearing spectacles, as stubborn as it might have seemed. He quietly slapped the papers down on the side table next to his window and turned his wheelchair to face her.

"What do you need, Lotus?" he grumbled.

"Nothing. Just something I wanted, I guess…" the girl shrugged, looking uncharacteristically forlorn.

"…Which is?" he prompted after she said nothing.

Lotus closed the distance between them and stood quietly in front of the man in his dark patient attire. It was then that Severus seemed to fully take notice that she was dressed out in proper trousers and a plain white shirt. Without warning, she dipped in and threw her little arms around his neck in a farewell embrace. He spluttered, eyes darting to seek out someone perhaps hiding with a camera.

"Lotus, take your hands off of me." Severus huffed.

"I gotta hug you goodbye. You're supposed to hug your friends goodbye. I'm going home with Daddy today. Put your arms up and hug me back or I'll bite you. See if I don't." Lotus asserted. "You _are_ my friend, Mr. Snape. You can't color together and not be friends."

He certainly did not wish to partake in a hug, but neither did he want to be bitten. Of course, if he pushed her roughly away, that would be the perfect moment for Madam McNair to walk in and chastise him for rude behavior. With a resigned groan, he awkwardly patted the girl's back, shoosing not to comment on double negatives.

"You're not very good at hugging, are you?" Lotus asked dully.

"I haven't had much practice, as I'm sure you can imagine." Severus responded as though it should have been obvious.

As she pulled back, a wizard could be seen hovering in the doorway. He bore a slight resemblance to the girl, and it could be assumed that he was Lotus' father. That was not the only thing which Severus noticed in the fraction of a second that he caught the opposite man's eye before turning back to his notes as if to pretend he was busier than he truly was. The girl's father was an old student of his; a Ravenclaw who'd started at Hogwarts in Severus' fourth year as potions professor.

"Daddy! This is Mr. Snape! He's been helping me learn about Pepper-Up Potion and how to banish ghouls!" Lotus beamed, scurrying over to take her father by the hand and lead him in a few feet.

It was with a distinct apprehension that the man approached his old professor.

"Ahem. Professor Snape. Thank you for keeping my girl company. I had… no idea that you were a patient here. Coming along nicely?" the man asked conversationally.

"I suppose, Smithwick." Severus drawled, choosing to spare his ex-student an excuse to remain in the room by making it clear that there was little need for small talk.

"Ah. Well. That's good." he coughed, looking down at his daughter in confusion. "Pepper-Up Potion and ghouls? Really? Did you understand all that?"

"Of course, Daddy. I'm not a dunderhead." Lotus replied simply. "Goodbye, Mr. Snape. Try not to stay in your room and be lonely so much, okay?"

It was with considerable effort that Severus was able to school his face into a neutral expression when the girl parroted out one of his trademarked insults. He tilted his face up in to glare at the ceiling at her last remark, though he flicked his wrist out in a returned farewell wave of sorts as the pair departed. He could have sworn that he heard Lotus laughing when her father asked if she'd been afraid of him when they'd only barely rounded the door out.

At least now he might get some peace and quiet.

"Mr. Snape," Madam McNair swept into the room, taking note of how her patient groaned. "In a pleasant mood, I see."

"Merely annoyed at the interruptions to my research." he quipped.

"Mm. Well, it will have to wait. We've got work to do. We're starting on the parallel bars today." she advised, making a tick mark on his chart.

Severus gawked at her like she'd grown a second head. Surely she didn't intend to make him attempt walking in actual gravity on his own when he'd no proper control over his legs. The neutral expression so characteristic of her features did not falter when his silence demanded an explanation, so he cleared his throat pointedly.

"You expect I'll be ready for it at this point in time?" he inquired.

"You've been pacing in the pool with assistance, and your legs have moved about considerably during our last few sessions. You can try at the very least." the healer sighed.

For a long moment, he stared at his legs, presumably still quite useless. Unlike his arms, Severus was not having any success in moving them on his own. When his arms had been triggered to move, he'd been able to sustain them doing so for period of time. His legs simply did not bend to his will. Madam McNair seemed to realize his distress, but chose to move behind his chair and wheel him out of the room herself. They could discuss things as needed, but she really had no time to waste, even with one less patient now that Lotus was gone.

"With any luck, everyone will be back tomorrow, and you can have less of me, Mr. Snape. Until then, I'll thank you not to fight me in the progress of your treatment."

"I am not so much fighting as feeling a certain reluctance at the idea that I will be able to perform." Severus grumbled as he was moved to a padded bench, laid out to stretch.

"If I thought you might fall on your face, I would not put you in this situation. You _have_ moved, therefore you _can_ move. As it stands, it's going to be a little more difficult than it would have been. I should not have allowed your conscious mind to escape to memories while your instinctive mind took over in present day treatments." Madam McNair replied with a small hesitation. "It was wrong of me, really. Perhaps not wrong, no, but misguided, rather."

"Misguided?"

"Yes. I allowed you to view old memories as a means of placating you. In a way, I used your thoughts on Lily much the same as Sir Padmoore did, to further your progress without debate from you. Though I suppose it was also a means of showing understanding to your upset and attempting to make amends through use of something I deemed precious to you. I will not do it again." she stated flatly.

Severus' eyes widened ever so slightly. A small well of panic crept through his chest. He didn't want to avoid the memories by any means. His healer thought it would be wrong of her to use them as a means to allow his mind to check out, so to speak, but he'd enjoyed it immensely. Just yesterday, he'd spent the better part of an hour of a mind that he was simply lying on a blanket by the river, passing a book back and forth so that he and Lily could read aloud to one another. His mind reeled, grasping at straws for something to turn the decision around, but she interrupted his thoughts.

"I was concerned that your conscious mind would not recall being able to move once you came back into the present moment, and it seems that I was correct. But I know you can move, so today, we will try."

"If I may," he protested, hoping for his sake not to come off desperate or disrespectful. "Though it may have its setbacks, clearly the memories have served a purpose if they've not halted my movements and progress all together."

Madam McNair paused in helping him bend and stretch his left leg to look square into his eyes. It was always uncomfortable when she did such a thing. He felt as though she were probing through his mind, bypassing ever occlumency barrier with ease.

"You are afraid." she stated, leaving no room for question.

"Yes." Severus admitted, though it pained him greatly to do so. "I feel… better… after viewing these memories. They remind me of times where stresses were greatly lessened. I believe there is a benefit to my well-being in recalling these experiences."

"I will consider these points. For now, focus on the task at hand."

"I cannot move of my own volition, Madam. I have told you this." Severus grumped, disheartened by the fact that his link to the past was set to question.

The healer quirked a brow and held one of his legs in front of her. One hand reached out to scratch at a space behind his knee, and this prompted him to jerk it closer to his person with a sharp intake of breath. Well. There was the proof he'd sought, he supposed. He _could_ move. That was something he'd been missing out on, as it were. Humiliating as it could be, when he was given a _reason_ to shift his limbs, a real reason, he could do it. Just _wanting_ to do something verses _needing_ to do something made a great deal of difference. _I_ _ **want**_ _to move away from pain_ in his time with Sir Padmoore paled in comparison to _I_ _ **need**_ _to move away from this sensation before I make a fool of myself and start bloody_ _ **giggling**_ with Madam McNair's approach. He grumbled and pushed his legs onto the floor.

"Take my arm, and we'll move to the parallel bars. Five steps. After that, use your arms for balance and support as needed, but try to keep your weight evenly on your feet. You can do this." the healer reminded him quietly.

"And if I do not try, I surmise that your fingers will be at the back of my knees again?" Severus fussed, wobbling to his feet with her assistance.

"Who's clever?" she agreed, wincing slightly when he took her arm.

It might have gone unnoticed by some, but Severus was perceptive even at the worst of times. Clumsy and uneven, they managed to hobble over to the equipment regardless. He hardly considered it walking when there was such a heavy need to be supported, but he was still offered a small congratulatory pat on the shoulder. One hand and then the other planted firmly on the bars. Eyes clamped shut, Severus imagined his personal bubble being invaded. A small shuffling noise indicated that one foot had slid forward on the floor by a few inches, then the other followed in suit.

"I can… brew a salve for your needle pricks." Severus grunted, hissing breath through his teeth as his muscles strained to accommodate the vastly unfamiliar weight. "Clearly you've neglected to look after them."

Madam McNair looked down at her forearms and instinctively smoothed the sleeves.

"Without a wand, I handle magics for healing in the best way I'm able for the benefit of my patients." she replied with a dismissive shrug.

"And yet… you neglect your own well-being in a blatant display of hypocrisy." Severus huffed, inching forward bit by bit.

"Neglect and absent-mindedness are two very different thought processes, Mr. Snape. I am not inflicting and sustaining harm for myself as a means of laying punishment to my flesh. Neither am I avoiding healing myself. I am busy. It becomes second to whatever task is at hand." Madam McNair frowned, her voice tinged with a small irritation. "Focus on what you are supposed to be doing."

Always of a nature to dig into a person when he was in pain or annoyed himself, Severus had to catch his tongue before he dug himself into a deeper problem. He bit down on his lower lip and forced his eyes open, sliding his hands further along the bars for support. The burn in his muscles flared to a higher degree of pain. His knees buckled and he came down hard on them with a grunt of discomfort, barely able to hold to the bars to lessen his impact. When Madam McNair offered a hand up, he refused and hoisted himself back into a standing position.

She seemed to understand that he was pushing himself hard in an effort to prove that the memory escapes were not impeding his progress. All the same, his pain level monitors were flickering on the chart in a way that suggested suffering. Another small movement forward and he was again on his knees.

"Mr. Snape…"

"I can do it." he interrupted harshly.

"You cannot. You'll grow stronger at it each time, but today you've done enough." Madam McNair shook her head, moving to grip under his forearm. "If you are not careful, you'll exhaust yourself and lose movement again if you don't build to it."

He swatted her away, pride stinging harshly. A small spattering of silver leaked through the right arm of the healer's uniform. She frowned and pulled back, jerking her outer robe off and dropping it into a metal quarantine hamper in the corner of the room. Severus opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He'd only meant a sort of shooing motion, but off-balance as he was, his hand had come down a great deal harder than he'd intended. It seemed to have opened up several scabbed-over needle pricks. The healer busied herself wrapping the arm in a bandage as Severus struggled to turn on the bars to face her. She calmly walked back to him, rested a hand on his shoulder, and forced him painfully back onto the ground.

"Let me make myself plain, Mr. Snape," she whispered into his ear. "If you ever again raise a hand to me, I will mangle you so thoroughly in body and mind that you will never move so much as a finger on your own again, even in your wildest fantasies. Do you understand?"

"I… did not mean to…" he grunted, trying to sit up.

"Do you understand?" she repeated.

"Yes, but…"

"Good. Accidents will happen. I trust you can find the way back to your room." the healer interrupted.

She turned, struck a match, and set fire to the soiled robes before strolling out of the room as if nothing had happened.

For a long moment, Severus stared at the burning hamper. Smoke drew up to the ceiling in strange blue tendrils, which triggered a fire abatement charm, sending a rainstorm through the entire room. With a sigh, Severus crawled on his forearms back to his wheelchair. He was soaked to the skin. Both of the resident house elves came skidding into the room to clean up and throw a towel over the drenched man's head in a futile effort to protect him from the rain as he wheeled out. At first, he was fully intending to return to his room and take stock of what had happened. It seemed a heavy overreaction. Halfway down the corridor, he stopped, however. Madam McNair was a direct woman, and he did wish for a direct response.

"Would you care to explain why my mistake was met with so heavy of a threat?" Severus drawled from the doorway of the healer's office.

"Because you are a wizard, and a wizard spilling the blood of my kind is usually met with a death penalty." she replied without looking up from her paperwork. "The fact that I did not strike you down is evidence of my level of restraint. You are welcome."

"I see. It has to do with prejudice." he probed.

"Do you know what a pensive is, Mr. Snape?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Severus sneered, annoyed that his assessment was being avoided.

"It has to do with everything." Madam McNair replied flatly.

"I know what a pensive is, yes." he hissed.

"They used to be more easily accessible. Nowadays they are quite rare." she continued, snapping a folder closed and setting it aside. "That is no potion in the center. The contents of a pensive are made solely from the blood of Obitus Fae. Even in death, our ability to access memory can be exploited by whomsoever dips their face into the liquid. Wizards harvested my people for their blood. It is for this reason that we generally do not mix company. I will not allow what happened today to happen again. I do not care if it was an accident. Control your temper, Mr. Snape, and we may put this most egregious offence behind us. Do we have an understanding?"

Severus knit his eyebrows and looked down at his hands, though he did not really see them. The man was lost in thought. It was an understandable upset, if a bit overblown considering that he'd not meant to cause the woman any actual harm. Most literature on the subject of pensives held only a very vague description of where they came about, and it certainly did not seem to line up with what Madam McNair had explained. Medieval wizards did tend to gloss over the more gruesome details in cases where they'd utilized other creatures to advance their craft. To a steep degree, it made a lot of sense. In this situation, he surmised that it would be culturally sensitive to offer an apology. His pride normally prevented such things, but if there was one thing Severus Snape could identify with, it was the notion that some grudges did not go away with time.

"I apologize. I was unaware." he sniffed through the water, smearing his wet hair out of his face. "You are correct in that I need to control my temper. I am… an easily upset individual by nature. My pride is heavily challenged in a place like this. We have an understanding."

A dubious look crossed over the woman's face. She drew in a long breath and held it, releasing after a moment to return to a neutral expression. Outwardly, she seemed to have calmed a great deal, though it was difficult to discern what was turning the windmills of her mind. She stood and turned to a cabinet to fetch out a fresh, undrenched towel, and passed it over to the sopping man. He reluctantly accepted and dabbed at his face as she moved behind to wheel him back to his room. She parked the wheelchair near a heating unit by the window, and folded her hands in front of her.

"I'll make you a deal, Mr. Snape," she offered. "For every day that you are completely cooperative with no ill behavior, I will make a note in your chart. Collect five notes, and I will show you whatever memory you ask for as a reward. Is this fair? I'll put it on paper as a proper binding contract."

Severus snapped his face towards hers, attention fully captured. The prospect of seeing anything he wanted to, reliving something wonderful, or possibly gaining closure on certain things, was something he would not willingly pass up. He gave the healer a curt nod. He was fully intent on complying with any request. It was too good of an opportunity let slip away.

He only hoped that nobody would come along to vex him.


	18. Chapter 18

The first two days passed without incident. It was almost too easy. Nothing was said or done to annoy him, and as long as he didn't lash out during any of his therapies, it would be smooth sailing to collect the five notes needed to unlock his prize. Normally, Severus was entirely against the idea of this sort of positive reinforcement baiting, but then, how many things did he truly claim to want? He lived simply. He made do with the little he had growing up, and then as a young adult he'd kept to the sparse needs ideals just the same. If you expected nothing, you received less disappointment as your reward. This was different. He began to wonder if he would be allowed a memory for every five notes, or if it would be a one-time allotment. He knew that he must choose carefully if there was but one shot at it. He did not argue. He did not mutter veiled insults spurred by his own embarrassment. He did not scowl at changes in his routine. He was a blank slate. Not particularly _happy_ looking, but less irritable, certainly.

"Would you like a tea tray this afternoon, Mr. Snape?" Amelia asked pleasantly.

"You've returned." Severus acknowledged, looking up from his book. "Ah… yes. Please."

Pleases were few and far between with this particular gentleman, and it caused the young woman to perk from pouring the kettle and turn back to him with a bright smile. She gave a small nod, choosing not to press her luck by pointing it out directly. He was outdoors on his own, and his tone had much improved since the last time they'd spoken. Once everything was in order, she placed the tray on a table beneath a tree in the garden near to where he'd wheeled himself. She put the brake up on the tea trolley and came to sit beside him. This was unusual, as he was currently in a free period and had no appointments to be off to. Before he could ask, a small blue bag of coins was placed in front of him with a quiet jingle.

Confused, Severus just stared at her until some elaboration could be made. People didn't just flop about coins for no reason. Was she paying him for manners? What the hell was this? Some sort of ploy to cause a snarky outburst? If so, he did not appreciate the underhandedness of it all. He was _getting_ that memory.

"That's your cut. We cashed in all the bets we've been making on you since you've arrived." Amelia explained. "Don't look so offended, Mr. Snape. We do it for everyone. Difference is, we share the winnings with our mark. If you want, I can have it deposited to your Gringotts account, but I thought you might like to have some on hand on the off-chance-"

"On the off-chance that I try to escape again? Is that what this is? Bribery to leave?" Severus interrupted curtly.

The attendant looked genuinely shocked and held up her hands in a gesture of peace.

"No! No. It's Halloween right around the corner, and that's a free day for all of the patients. Usually people spend the day with their families or take some time to visit Hogsmeade for the festivities. I thought it might be nice to have some spending money on hand, that's all. We aren't trying to be rid of you. Honestly, we won't have anyone left to keep us on our toes once you've completed your circuit here, Mr. Snape. I'll be a bit sad to see you go, but we'll all be happy that you can walk out on your own." she assured him quietly. "You spend all day on a schedule, so… I thought we'd cash you out sooner than later so you could have an independent day."

Severus let his gaze slide from Amelia down to the bag of coins. Should the need arise to make another getaway, a bag of readily available coins would be a boon to have, though he currently had no intention of leaving. Halloween… that was only a few days away. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone with his thoughts on that day, but neither did he wish to impede on the Malfoy's annual Hallows Ball as a cripple, or get roped into chaperoning the party at Hogwarts with Minerva. What was he supposed to do?

"Do we _have_ to leave?" he asked quietly, perhaps a bit more meek than he'd meant it to sound.

"Ah… you don't want to?" Amelia returned.

"No."

"I see. I'm sure we can arrange something, but typically-"

"Halloween is a complicated day for me. I do not spend it left to my own thoughts if it can be avoided." Severus asserted.

Amelia took a moment to process this, and a dawning of realization began to creep over her face. Lily had passed away on Halloween. She'd been such a constant presence in his therapies over the last few months that it would be cruel to make him endure solitude when she was so fresh in his mind. It must have been a difficult thing to admit, not wanting to be alone, because immediately he dropped the intensity of his gaze and settled his eyes on a wayward leaf skittering across the tabletop. He quietly cleared his throat and took a sip of tea to avoid being further scrutinized.

"We'll just have to find you a date!" Amelia said decidedly, much to the shock of her patient. "I'm sure Mel could be talked into wearing a wig. A little lipstick. You'll never know the difference. He does a grand Monty Python-esque old lady imitation."

Oh. She was teasing. Thank Merlin. Severus let out a huff of relief and half smiled in spite of himself. She had deliberately said something outlandish to break tension. It was nice not to be forced into something one way or another. When your time was so heavily regimented, the smallest allotment of choice felt akin to a broad freedom. Joking aside, he truly would need to find some way to work around things.

"That's something I never thought I'd see. Did he almost smile?"

Severus felt as if a cup of cold water had been poured down his back. The therapist stood and brushed her uniform smooth to vacate the seat next to him.

"Mr. Potter, we were wondering when you might be back." she smiled pleasantly, pouring the guest a cup of tea.

"Ah, thank you. A lot of raids lately, so… busy. Ahem." Harry replied sheepishly.

"I'll leave you to it, then. Ring if you need anything." Amelia sighed, leaving a bell with Severus and making her departure.

Silence.

While Severus was well aware by now that Harry had attempted to visit a few times since he'd left Saint Mungo's, this was the first he'd seen him in quite some time. Over the years, he'd drop in sparsely to inquire on his well-being or ask for an old story or two about Lily, but it was quite awkward for the both of them. A long sip of tea indicated that he would not be the first to speak.

"I've, ah… I've tried to come and see you before. Suppose you've been… busy." Harry began, nervously drumming fingers on the table. "I wanted you to know that we're doing everything we can about Sir Padmoore. He's got a lot of safety nets, but the Ministry is working around them wherever we're able. His practice is more than a bit dodgy. I'm… what they did to you… with Mum… I'm sorry that happened to you."

Blood gathered in the older man's face, and it took all of his will to keep from smashing his teacup onto the table. Potter knew? Was it in the bloody Prophet? Common knowledge for the outside world as a window to his humiliation?

"Minerva was never good at keeping her tongue in check." Severus hissed. "How much of my private medical history is public by now? What happened is entirely _my_ business and I will not be looked down upon and pitied like a mewling stray. If that is why you've come by-"

"I didn't hear about this from the Headmistress, _sir_." Harry practically growled. "Besides being a Ministry official, I think you've missed the _very obvious fact_ that they'd _desecrated_ _my mother's grave_ to even _use_ that polyjuice treatment. So excuse me if I felt bad for you, but we're _both_ angry about this. She's still my Mum."

Harry's eyes grew dark, and Severus had the distinct impression that a shouting match was about to break out. If it did, there went his note for the day out the window. This called for drastic measures. Knuckles white with the effort of his, Severus grit his teeth and steeled his nerves. Against every instinct, he swallowed his pride like a bitter surge of bile and spoke before he could change his mind.

"I apologize. Sometimes it is difficult to see past my own pain."

It was if all the fire was snuffed out of Harry's expression in one fell swoop. He stared, practically dumbfounded, at his ex-professor. Rather like a tea kettle, the younger man let out a low whistle and shook his head, trying to reorganize his thoughts.

"Er. Yeah. I know how that is. I… sorry. I didn't come here to fight. S'pose it just kinda… It's hard." Harry admitted, sweeping a hand through his unruly black hair.

"Indeed," Severus agreed dryly.

Finally, Harry sank down into the seat next to him and drained his tea before continuing on with the real purpose of his visit. He'd run over the way this conversation would go at least a hundred times, but that hadn't made it any easier.

"It was rocky between us while I was at Hogwarts. You could be a real… I'm starting this wrong. I drove you barmy, you drove me barmy. But at the end of the day, I know you suffered a lot of my behalf. On Mum's behalf. For a lot of people, really. You kept on fighting even after Dumbledore was gone, and I can't imagine how lonely it must have been to have the world look at you like a villain with Voldemort breathing down your neck all the time. You protected people without them ever realizing it." Harry recited in a practiced tone.

Severus raised an eyebrow and sat his teacup down. What was the purpose of all of this?

"Are you trying to soften some worse news? Have they finally decided to cart me off to Azkaban?" he inquired, entirely mistrustful of the praise.

"What? No. Look, I know I've nagged you about stories you had of my Mum, but that's because you're really the only person left who knew her really well, you know? I didn't know what else to say. I had to sort out my head a lot about the way things went over the years, so it was the only positive thing I could think of to ask you about. But now… well. I had a lot of people to lean on for support, and even that didn't make things easy. I keep getting these awards and people are always coming up to shake my hand. But I was scared all the time. I don't think people really understood that. You were there in the shadows the whole time making sure I wasn't maimed even when things were at the lowest points. Ginny and I have been talking things over; about how you sent her and Neville to Hagrid instead of the Carrows whenever you could, how… I'm rambling. I had this whole… stupid list from year one on to name out things you'd done, but it's not coming out right."

In an effort to come to the point of it, Harry dug in the pockets of his auror robes and fished out a moving photo. It was a bit grainy, but easily identified as a baby. He passed it to the older man and took a breath.

"We're having another boy." Harry stated.

"Ah… I… congratulations?" Severus replied awkwardly, turning over the photo and passing it back. "I suppose Ginerva means to catch up in children to match her mother's amount?"

"Oh, hell. I hope not. Not that I don't love the Weasleys, I do, but more than three I think I'd go mad. I'm still getting used to the idea of being a father just in general. Feeling it out, you know? Didn't exactly have a lot to draw from, growing up with the Dursleys. Er. Anyway. We're calling him Albus." Harry explained. "…Albus Severus Potter. Named for two of the bravest men I've ever known. I just wanted to tell you in person."

Slightly slack-jawed, Severus could do nothing but stare for the longest time. This seemed to be the exact reaction Harry had expected, because he appeared to be quite satisfied. He leaned back in his seat and looked up at the tree they'd been sitting under.

"You're different. I can tell this place is having a good effect on you. I mean, it's pretty amazing that you're able to move about now, but just… I dunno. You look less miserable and angry. Like you've worked through a lot, too." Harry commented. "I would like to eventually be able to grab a pint and talk to you without the pretense of war hanging over our heads. Nobody puppeting our moves or forcing hands. Just _be_. Does that make sense?"

Severus gave a hollow nod to show that he understood, but mentally he was still reeling from the idea that someone… Potter of all people… was naming a child in his honor. He waited for the punchline. It never came. As much time as he'd spent around this person, neither of them really knew what the other was like outside of the barriers they'd been forced to live in. How long had it been since he'd had a pint, anyway? Part of the process of healing was accepting limitations and working to move past them. Perhaps this could eventually help bring about another layer of closure in one way or another. Certainly some sort of response was expected, so at long last he cleared his throat and folded his fingers on the table.

"That would be agreeable."

"Brilliant," Harry breathed, relief breaking over his features. "Okay. Well!"

"Well, I'm afraid you're out of time, Mr. Potter." Amelia interjected with a quiet cough. "Mr. Snape has a session to get to, but I'm sure you'll have a chance to catch up at a later time. We actually have an entire open day coming up on Halloween if you're so inclined."

The auror stood and fumbled to hand back the empty teacup, which was gracefully accepted and tucked away into thin air. Sometimes the simplest tricks were still a wonder to the Chosen One. Severus gave the therapist a confused glance. Was she trying to arrange company already?

"Oh, yeah? I would, but we all the aurors have to be present for a shift since pranks are pretty rampant on Halloween, so I've got morning. We're taking the kids trick-or-treating for a bit after and then visiting the Weasleys. It's a bit packed, sorry. I… try to keep busy. It's just…" Harry stammered, gesturing in a way that begged for understanding. "But after! Sometime soon. Next free day, just owl me and we can work around it."

Severus gave a small shrug and bid Harry good day. He wasn't about to press for the next meeting, and forcing it within the next few days felt strange to begin with. It could wait. The interaction hadn't gone as poorly as he thought it would, and that in itself was something to be relieved about. Amelia walked behind his wheelchair, barely suppressing a grin when they were alone again.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just baby Albus SEVERUS. Aren't you excited?" Amelia peeped, giving his shoulder a nudge.

"You were listening?" Severus frowned.

"No! He's been going on about it for a while now, trying to come and see you." she insisted quickly.

"Oh… I see. A little warning would have been nice."

"Ha! I'm not going to be the one to spoil a name reveal! Are you mad? That's a very personal thing. You're just looking for a reason to be grumpy." Amelia scoffed. "This is a great honor. Lotus was right. You really _can_ be a weenie sometimes."

He wanted to be annoyed, but truth be told... well, it was very conflicting. In some ways, it was a wave of confused pride, but there was something else as well. The acknowledgement made him feel as though Harry had made a conscious decision to push past their complicated interactions and pull something positive away from the experience. _Perspective and empathy in regards to the bastard, Severus Snape_. Was this what forgiveness felt like?


	19. Chapter 19

Five notes. Severus observed the check marks on his whiteboard with pride. The day was officially over. Evening meal had come to its conclusion, and one by one, all of the lights save for the personal illumination next to the patient's beds had all dimmed away. Where was Madam McNair? Was she avoiding him? It was nigh on ten in the evening. Every minute that ticked by tugged a little more hope away from Severus' heart, and by eleven he'd come to the conclusion that the woman had tricked him into behaving with an empty promise. She'd made a contract. Did that mean nothing? There was no magic laced into the parchment, so there was nothing but honor holding her to it. The frustration of it was suffocating. How could he have been so foolish?

A soft clinking noise at the door drew his attention. It had stood open all night so that he could strain his ears listening for any sign of the head healer, and as such, she did not bother knocking before entering with two glass tumblers and a small bottle of fire whiskey. Wordlessly, she sat the glasses on his bedside table and poured a few ounces of the liquor into each one. She passed one to him, and kept the other to herself, settling into a chair next to him.

"It's been a journey, Mr. Snape. Have you decided what you'd like your memory to be?" she asked, leaning back a small amount.

Severus cradled the beverage in his hands, tapping a thin finger to the glass. It was now or never. A great deal of careful thought had been put to the task of his selection. Perhaps he would have chances to tie up other loose ends in the future, but for the time being, he intended to look at the occasion as his only chance. He cleared his throat and fixed Madam McNair with a certain finality in his eyes.

"Yes. I would like to see _your_ memory… of Sir Padmoore's treatment. The event that caused him to walk. The moment that broke him." Severus announced.

Madam McNair paused mid-sip and lowered her tumbler to rest on one knee. This was far and away nothing like what she had expected him to ask for. She had assumed that he would attempt to find some sort of healing closure in Lily's memories. Was this not what he wanted at the end of things? She watched him take a slow swallow of fire whiskey, waiting for a follow-up request or a clarification of some kind. Nothing came.

"That is… surprising. But if that is your wish, I will accommodate you." she sighed. "You're really so bitter over him that you're using your free pass just to view his suffering? It seems a backwards step in the progress of your mentality."

"I have my reasons. I would have thought you'd be relieved not to have me prying at my crutch memories." Severus replied smoothly.

She couldn't argue with that. The closure might have helped or hurt, but perhaps he was opposed to that sort of finality because it provided the opportunity to move forward in his life. Maybe he did not wish to heal. Some people were funny like that. She tipped the glass back and finished her drink, setting it to the side with a small shake of her head.

"Do you need anything before we begin? You'll be an observer this time, as you did not live through the memory, and you will be a bit more aware of time as it passes." she explained.

Severus shook his head no. He was more than ready to begin. He closed his eyes and waited as Madam McNair touched a finger to his forehead and let the world slide to black.

* * *

 _Rain pattered heavily on the windows. The stately room stood dim in the heavily overcast twilight, casting uncomfortable shadows until a fire was lit in the grate to provide a small illumination. Madam McNair turned from the flames and shook her head sympathetically at her colleague who was hunched in a wheelchair by the window. Words seemed to fail her, so she simply came to stand at his side, hands folded in front of her. Sir Padmoore stared listlessly out into the storm, his face devoid of any trace of his usual charm._

 _"_ _I want to say that I didn't know it was a possibility. I can't." he frowned._

 _Madam McNair said nothing. She would not patronize him with empathy that he clearly did not wish to have. Instead, she shook her head again and knelt down to change a few bandages and check the progress of his stitches. The Muggle emergency crew who'd found him had done a decent repair job, so he had not bothered to change anything to heal faster when he'd been released from the hospital. He did not want to heal faster._

 _"_ _Did you bring them?" he asked in a broken hopeful manner, then thought better of the phrasing. "Do you have them?"_

 _"_ _I do," she nodded. "I must confess that I am… confused as to why you would rather pursue this route, Thomas. It goes against everything we've worked for in a healthy recovery."_

 _Sir Padmoore gave the woman a humorless smile and cast his eyes to the floor._

 _"_ _I want it to hurt." he replied simply._

 _"_ _You're already hurt. If you're hoping that the punishment aspect of it will help you come to terms with things, I can assure you-"_

 _"_ _Don't." he said firmly._

 _She held up a hand to show that she would not press the matter. He seemed to realize the harshness of his tone and hung his head miserably._

 _"_ _I'm… I'm sorry, Felicity. She was..." he croaked, struggling to keep the pitiful waver from his voice. "Everything is just… smiles and bright h-hope at the clinic, and I just want to grieve. I need this."_

 _"_ _We can wait. We can wait until you've processed all of this before anything is done. There's no need to rush through it."_

 _"…_ _Oh, but there is, dear woman. Oh, but there is."_

* * *

 _Darkness swelled as the scene swapped out to show a later date. Sir Padmoore could be seen huddled in the corner of a depressing bare room with metal walls and floors. He cowered away from the harsh flood of brightness from a wand illumination, face pressed hard to the wall to shield his eyes which had become so accustomed to darkness._

 _"_ _Stop being lazy and get off that wall. Got no time for sleeping. Your wife's here." came the gruff voice of an attendant._

 _Padmoore blearily turned his face towards the door, wavering heavily as though his spine was made of jelly and could barely support his head. The eyes were heavily glazed over from hazing potions to make him more susceptible to believing things, and from all appearances it was a far greater dosage than he'd ever subjected his patients to. A sharp cry rang out as the attendant poured cleanser over his injured legs. The flesh sizzled under the healing effects of the abrasive potion, but the discomfort did not last on the infirmed man's face for long. He became stoic almost immediately as he accepted the pain._

 _"_ _Are you just going to sit there?" a woman's voice asked coldly._

 _"_ _Emily…" Sir Padmoore quaked._

 _His hand shakily reached out for a figure he could scarcely see, only to be denied as she leaned back out of reach. He whimpered softly, aching to hold her, to know she was there in the flesh, alive and well. She instead snapped a hand out to grasp him by the jaw and force horrible memories into his mind. This was certainly Madam McNair herself if she was able to do such a thing._

 _A bright flash spilled through the room._

 _Sir Padmoore tucked a picnic basket into the trunk of a Muggle car and quickly slammed it shut as a woman with dark hair and warm brown eyes darted up behind him wrapped in a blanket to shield herself from the rain. He grinned as she gave him a squishing hug from behind._

 _"_ _At least we finished eating before the downpour." Emily laughed quietly. "But are you sure you want to try driving? It's a bit trickier in the rain, love."_

 _"_ _Of course," he laughed, shooing her to the passenger's seat. "You spent all day cooking. I think I can manage a twenty minute drive."_

 _"_ _You say that now. But if we see ducks crossing the road, watch and see how you panic." Emily smirked._

 _The car roared to life, Padmoore revving the engine cheekily before pulling off into the road. There was a slightly uncertain drift in the way he piloted the car, but Emily gave gentle corrections all the while to set him right. Her husband kept a nervous smile plastered over his face to exude a false confidence. This lasted all of ten minutes before the world came crashing down in the form of a battered body slamming onto the hood of the car. Sir Padmoore swerved hard in a frenzy, not knowing how to break out of a spin. Out of control, the car toppled into the side railing of the road._

 _When the vehicle came to an abrupt halt, Sir Padmoore hacked out a mouthful of blood and looked blearily to his wife. There next to him, Emily trembled, tearfully reaching out for her husband as the life leaked out of her onto the floorboards from a section of railing rammed through her chest. She opened her mouth to speak, though no words could form._

 _"_ _My… my wand… I can…" Sir Padmoore tried to calm her, knowing that there were healing spells aplenty to abate the bleeding._

 _His eyes widened as he came to a terrible realization._

 _"_ _I can't move. I can't… I can't move. Emily… Emily please… someone will c-" he hacked painfully again. "S-someone will come. Stay with me. Look at me. Just look at me."_

 _She tried, but after only a few seconds, the light left her eyes. Sir Padmoore pressed the side of his face as much as he could manage into the horn where he rested against the steering wheel. By the time the ambulance arrived, though, it was far too late to resuscitate his wife._

 _The man was in shock, too horrified to weep, too angry to scream. She was dead. She was dead and it was his fault. As he was pulled from the wreckage, he could make out the form of someone he recognized as Mad Eye Moody laying limp in the road. That's who had fallen from the sky? He was quite dead, to be sure. Sir Padmoore squinted through the rain and happened to catch the swirling robes and glinting masks of a group of Death Eaters giving chase overhead on broomsticks. They must have been fierce to take down the mighty Mad Eye, he thought. The Muggles loading him, his wife, and the fallen auror, into the ambulance didn't even notice the battle._

 _"_ _You're going to be alright, sir!" one of the emergency crew shouted over the storm._

 _Sir Padmoore smiled wryly._

 _"_ _No. I won't."_

* * *

 _"_ _No more! Please! I can't… everyday… please…" Sir Pamoore cried as the woman let go of his jaw. "Just… let me die. I can't continue. I give up."_

 _"_ _Why didn't you let me drive? I could have handled that spinout." the woman hissed irritably. "Was your pride worth more than my life? Because that is exactly what it feels like."_

 _"_ _Of course not!" he gasped. "I didn't know… I thought I could do it, and-"_

 _"_ _Stop. Forget it. I'm leaving." Emily cut him off._

 _"_ _Don't go!" Sit Padmoore pleaded. "Please…"_

 _Emily slowly turned and motioned to the attendants. Two gruff looking men came forward and transfigured a section of the floor into low smoldering embers. Emily sat at the opposite end with the dangerous obstacle before her._

 _"_ _If you can crawl to me, I will allow you to hold me… one last time." she announced quietly._

 _All trace of panic and fear vanished from Sir Padmoore's face. His limbs shook terribly from the effort, but desperation spurred him in a way that brought life anew to his ruined body. Mind over matter, he clawed his way forward over the heated surface. He gave yelps and harsh gasps of pain, but the calloused limbs gave at least a mild protection of nerves where he still retained feeling as the flesh seared under him. Though he was heavily out of practice in movement, he was able to make it over to her in less than thirty seconds._

 _She stared unfeeling back at him all through his trial, but did ease into his arms when he beckoned her from a slumped sitting position._

 _"_ _I'm so sorry, love." he mumbled into her hair. "It was all my fault. I know that. I wish it had been me. I miss you so much."_

 _"_ _You crawled through embers for me." Emily whispered. "If only you'd put up that effort when it mattered. We could have been together."_

 _Before Sir Padmoore could stumble through a response, his wife fell limp in his arms and ceased to breathe. A look of horror crossed his features. He sobbed her name and curled her crumpled form close to his chest, only to have the body ripped from him by an attendant to be carted out of the room. Desperate, Sir Padmoore grasped at the attendant's leg, dragging himself to stand. He was kicked down with little effort, but was back on his feet again as the door slammed to leave him in darkness. He called out for his wife, beating the door until his fists were bruised and bloody. When it became clear that nobody would heed his pleas, his hands sank to his legs. Standing._

 _"_ _Good show, old boy…" he congratulated himself, his trademark false smile sliding into place. "You are phenomenal. Perfection incarnate."_

 _He did not mean a word of it._

* * *

Severus gave a little start as he came back into the present moment.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Madam McNair inquired mildly.

After taking a moment to have another drink in silence, Severus gave a slight nod. So it had been _Sir Padmoore_ driving, _not_ his wife. The night of the airborne battle was very well ingrained in his mind. Voldemort himself had sent a killing curse straight into Mad Eye Moody's face, though this circumstance would certainly have explained why the man was especially passive aggressive over Severus' Death Eater ties.

"Very well. If you are satisfied, I would suggest getting some rest." the healer sighed, standing to take her leave.

"Thank you," Severus commented quietly.

He seemed lost in thought, so Madam McNair gathered up the glasses and walked away from his beside. She paused at the door, but didn't turn around. Severus could easily sense an inner debate shifting within her mind, though what it was for was anyone's guess. He would not be fool enough to attempt to read the woman's thoughts. The mere idea of peeking into a brain that had so many people milling about within made his stomach turn. Such a feat would surely drive even the most sturdy Legilimens to madness. Too many voices. He wondered how she was able to function day to day, but as it was part of the way of life for her people, that must have had something to do with it. It was easy to forget that she was not human.

"She missed you, you know. A person does not simply forget their best friend. When Albus informed the Potters of your decision to swap sides, she cried. James seemed to believe that it was because she didn't want to think on you, but the truth of it was that Lily was relieved to know you were still _you_ somewhere in all that bundled up darkness and misery." Madam McNair said quietly. "She cared deeply for you."

If she'd chanced to turn and face him, the woman would have found Severus looking quite stricken. He managed to keep his choked sobs completely silent until the door softly clicked shut, but as soon as the footfalls had completely retreated down the hallway it became necessary to ball up a portion of blanket to his face. It was the best cry he'd had in his entire life.


	20. Chapter 20

The next day saw eighth of October according to a small calendar at Severus' bedside. That left little over three weeks to come up with something to do on Halloween. No Malfoy galas, no Hogwarts celebration, no prior engagements whatsoever to bear his mind away from the significance of the date. It did not sit well with him that the day was off-and-about for everyone in the clinic. What was he to do? He needed to find something to keep him busy. Anything. Were he strong enough, Severus would have used the day to pay a visit to Sir Padmoore and hint at knowing his dark secret, but as it stood, he would be easily overpowered if the conversation turned violent. That would need a little more time to bloom. Surely the opportune moment would present itself if he but waited for the timing to align with his steadily growing capabilities.

Breakfast came and went as usual, and after water therapy Severus decided that he would spend some time in the common area rather than retreating to his room as he would on a typical day. He told himself that it was because the lighting was better for writing. That was false. Light in his room was perfectly adequate. The background ambient noise of quiet conversation, radio, and house elves bustling to and fro was comforting because it kept his thoughts of the upcoming holiday on the back burner. If he was honest with himself, that was the only troubling thought in his mind currently. It was both fascinating and confusing to be this _comfortable_. Surely it would not last, but what if he allowed himself to enjoy it?

"Fancy a game of chess?" Cecil asked brightly.

Severus looked up from his stack of parchment and closed the reference book that had gone largely ignored. The elder man seemed to spend most of his time out here playing chess, cards, or dozing to the radio dramas that played. Loneliness was handled differently be different people, he supposed.

"I would not be averse to it." Severus replied, much to his own surprise.

Cecil smiled broadly and set up the board while Severus stacked his research to clear space on the table. From what he'd seen, the raven haired man was a fellow of few words. With this in mind, he decided to keep the conversation to a minimum so as not to seem overbearing. The soft wooden paps of the pieces being moved over the board carried a soothing backdrop to the momentary battle of wits. Silence was peaceful, though he did intend to break it eventually by means of inquiring on the weather or something equally mundane and safe. Shockingly, it was Severus who spoke first.

"What are you going to do with your free day on Halloween? Have you given any thought to it?" he inquired quietly.

"Ah, well. Haven't thought too much on it yet. Might go see my brother. He likes the company this time of year because the neighborhood kids like to prank his house. Used to be I'd jinx the yard so they couldn't do much without getting zapped by something or other, but nowadays my magical energy is so spent on moving that I can barely manage first year spells. Suppose I could have worked on my stamina a bit more, but at my age I'd rather be comfortable than powerful." Cecil shrugged. "How about you?"

Severus mirrored the shrug and moved to put the man into check.

"I do not have a lot of people that I associate with. Most are overwhelmed with activities, and I would rather pretend it's like any other day than attend a party." he admitted. "If you are uncomfortable with heavy casting, why not set up a series of potions to trigger if the yard is tampered with?"

"There's an idea!" Cecil cackled. "I'm open to suggestions. Actually, you're welcome to join us if you want a front row seat to the action."

A small smirk of amusement twitched his lips at the thought. Severus watched the man expertly avoid the capture and put his own king into check, then moved to correct it once more.

"I wouldn't want to impose on your family time. I'll figure something out."

"Offer stands in case you change your mind, young fella." Cecil nodded, sighing theatrically when he had to knock over his king in defeat. "You're good. I'll have you next time."

"Perhaps," Severus acknowledged.

He made a mental note to put a list of possible potion traps together for the old man. It would keep his mind occupied, and it wouldn't hurt to help keep pranksters at bay. That sort of merriment irritated him in a grating way.

"Time for electric, Cecil. All set?" Donovan asked as he strode into the common area.

"All set, Donny. We'll catch up again later, Severus, yeah?" Cecil asked hopefully.

"Yes. You need practice." Severus droned, though it was meant more as a promise than a criticism.

It did not take long to reset his papers, but they scattered slightly when he was prompted to jump as a hand squeezed his shoulder unexpectedly. With a huff, he refixed everything. Amelia offered an apologetic pat.

"That was impressive, Mr. Snape. You were social on your own and nobody got hexed." she teased. "You'll be well on your way to another note with that behavior."

Severus froze briefly, then snapped his attention fully on the attendant. _Another note?_ Was she not aware that he'd already completed his circuit of five?

"I've finished with the notes." he corrected her, carefully leaving the prompt open for argument.

"Ah. Well. You finished with the first set. I saw on your chart that Madam McNair has set new earning goals for you. One of them was to be more social. She didn't tell you?" Amelia gasped. "You did that without a bait?"

He shrugged, keeping his face neutral. There were chances for more good behavior notes! He could very well gain another memory if he tried. Of course, he would need to learn what the other goals were, but the idea that more prizes were up for grabs sent a small flutter of excitement rippling through his chest. It was certainly incentive to continue spending time in the common area, and all things considered it was usually both peaceful and safe. Nobody really imposed themselves on him in an intolerable way. This was doable. He wondered what the other goals were, but when Amelia caught him trying to nonchalantly glance at his chart which was nestled in the crook of her arm, she tsked and stepped back, giving his forearm a gentle swat.

"Peeker no peeking." she chided.

A heavily practiced roll of the obsidian eyes followed. So he couldn't look. A bit annoying, but perhaps there was need for him to figure out the goals on his own. Severus wondered if he would once again need only five notes to achieve a reward, but knew that it was probably not the case. Madam McNair was a bit too focused on progression to repeat a challenge set. If he asked point blank, perhaps she would simply tell him, but that could wait a few hours at least to avoid coming off as desperate.

"What are you scheming in there, hm?" Amelia asked.

"Mm?" Severus broke back into the present moment and feigned a confused expression. "Scheming? I would never. I was thinking on what I'm to do for Halloween."

Amelia gave him a disbelieving look, but simply patted his shoulder. In his mind, the holiday was only a few days away, even if it was closer to three weeks. It was a passable excuse. It was common knowledge among the healers that the upcoming day was at the forefront of his mind. The therapist quietly sat out a cup of tea and went back to her paperwork when he turned to resume his research.

Be more social. He would start with that.


	21. Chapter 21

"You've a new mustache."

Severus awoke with a sharp inhale through the nose, blearily pressing himself up from the table at his window. Once again, he'd fallen asleep writing. For the last three days he'd kept a strict schedule of productivity, filling box after box with various potions and tinctures. After much fussing from the attendants, the sallow man had agreed to have a nap midday to cope with the extra strain he'd put on his body because of it. They never said he had to be in his bed, though.

"Did you need… something?" Severus yawned, rolling his shoulders to stretch out a painful crick in his neck from the uncomfortable doze.

Madam McNair swept her healer's jacket to one side so that she might sit opposite her patient without wrinkling her uniform. Before indulging in Severus' curiosities, however, she summoned a damp cloth and a mirror so that he could tidy the smears of ink on his face. He accepted the tokens wordlessly and cleared his throat to dislodge the hoarseness born of his slumber. By now, things which would have previously been an embarrassment paled in comparison to things he'd been made to endure. It held no more bother than someone mentioning a leaf caught in his hair or an untied shoe lace.

"You ought to nap somewhere besides on top of these parchments." she sighed, gently capping the ink well. "We've been sent a request to release our responsibility of you for the day. It seems your presence is required at the Ministry of Magic. Don't panic." she added. "Someone with a desk job in Magical Law Enforcement claims to be a former student of yours."

He squinted, scrubbing away the last of the dried ink and thoroughly pinking his skin from the effort of it. For a long time, he'd been very out of touch with the goings-on of the Ministry, save for whenever someone came by for his statements for wartime records. Nobody came to mind. Without any idea of whom she might be referring to, Severus settled the healer with a questioning expression. He knew it couldn't be Potter, or she'd have led with that. Draco held a position, but it seemed unlikely that he would send for him through the Ministry channels.

"Hermione something or other." Madam McNair replied with a small shake of her head.

"Granger? What does she want with me?" Severus inquired, tossing the wash rag aside with mild annoyance at the small shadow of stain still clinging to his skin.

Madam McNair simply pushed over an envelope, still sealed, and rose out of her seat to leave. Whatever was inside had kept its privacy intact.

"I haven't a clue. But I'll call for a carriage while you read. It will be ready to go when you are prepared." she called over her shoulder. " _Do_ try not to overdo it while you're out."

What a bother. Severus leaned back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. As much as he didn't want to abandon his projects, it would be unwise to avoid a summons from a Ministry official, and he was certain that Granger would exploit every letter of the laws to get him there if she really had to. Thorough, that one. He broke the seal in exasperation and jerked the folds of letter out smooth to read over the feminine penmanship. It was short and simple. That was surprising. He'd fully expected an agonizingly long, brain gratingly detailed list of reasons for his forced appearance.

 _Professor,_

 _We find ourselves in need of a Dark Arts expert. Please come to the Ministry immediately to discuss a very serious issue with myself and the head of the Department of Mysteries._

 _Regards,_

 _Hermione Granger-Weasley_

She still addressed him as professor. Old habit, he supposed. Perhaps a ploy to give a placating sense of authority to him. It didn't matter. He gingerly changed into a set of black robes he'd been provided for off-site activities, and looked across the room to view himself standing, if only for a few seconds, in the mirror. It didn't take long for the muscles to give out to send him wobbling back to a sitting position, but it was better than nothing. They were still working on that. Even so, it was a huge confidence booster that he could do such a thing if needed. He felt less like a cripple and more like a person leaving out to give his expertise. Maybe this could be a good thing. The more networking he did, the better. Recently, he'd taken up potion making in mass quantities for use at Hogwarts and Saint Mungos to rebuild the savings he'd steadily been draining from with so many years in the care of medi-witches and wizards. The Snape vault was not run dry of funds, but he always sought to keep a _comfortable_ amount aside on the off chance that he actually wanted to retire in peace. At the moment, it laid somewhat _uncomfortable_. With that in mind, he closed up the boxes and labeled them for delivery. He could finish the other orders when he returned.

Silently, he wheeled himself to the front of the building to the waiting carriage and accepted the help of the driver to clamber inside. As they rumbled along the cobbled streets, he looked down at the summons once more, willing it to disclose more information. It did not. He could not see a pattern in the words to detect a coded message. Years of experience had taught him to be wary of the seemingly simple.

Nearing on forty minutes later, the carriage came to a jerking halt. Severus tucked the paper away into his pocket and shakily descended the single step down to his waiting wheelchair, fingers braced tight against an iron hand-hold. His knuckles were white with the effort of it. The bustling interior of the Ministry afforded plenty of distractions to keep prying or pitying eyes away from him as he traversed the annoyingly familiar territory. All too often in the months following the conclusion of the second wizarding war he'd been forced to bear testimony over and over. No easy feat when you'd barely healed from a torn throat.

"Professor. Good to see you… mobile." Hermione greeted him with a practiced formal politeness at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries and gestured him inside. "Harry mentioned that you were looking well."

The young woman began to reach out to push the chair herself in an effort to assist, but then thought better of it when she saw the way her former instructor's back stiffened. He did not want help. She refixed her posture and led the way through the dimly lit corridors until they came upon a door draped in iron chains. She carefully unlocked them and opened the door just enough to allow entry before fastening identical chains on the inside.

Severus felt his heart still in his chest. He opened his mouth to demand an explanation at the imprisonment, but closed it once his darting eyes settled upon a wooden chest sitting alone on a table in the center of the stone room.

"Recently, we became aware that the residents of Wiltshire have not been dying." Hermione explained, striding over to the box and easing the lid open.

"That is… _disagreeable_ for the Ministry?" Severus probed. "I suppose the death tally is too low?"

Hermione made an exasperated noise and dragged her frazzled hair up into a bun to clear it out of the way as she continued. A thick dossier was passed over to Severus. He looked over it with quiet scrutiny.

"To be specific, people have fallen off seven story houses, been impaled by falling decorative statues, suffered all sorts of accidents that _should_ have been fatal, but yet every single person has survived. In the last three years, not a single death has been reported. Muggles and wizards have both been spared. It's too heavily populated of an area for that sort of statistic, so we went looking for a reason. We found… this… buried in the center of Stonehenge. Since its removal, the death toll has picked up, save for a select few people who should have expired by now." she gently levitated a small doll out into the open for Severus to see. "It's a cursed item as far as we can tell, but what sort of curse keeps such a broad expanse of individuals alive? I'm on loan to the Department of Mysteries until the matter is resolved, but my research has turned up nothing. I thought perhaps you could offer some insight."

After reaching out with his own wand to take the doll in closer for inspection, Severus remained quiet. He turned it every which way, sucking in a long breath when he spied a small hinge in the jaw. As Hermione turned to fetch her research notes from the desk drawer, he gently pried it open with the tip of his wand and floated out a small piece of parchment, which unraveled before his eyes.

"It isn't cursed. It's a vessel." Severus worked out slowly. "There is powerful binding magic in Stonehenge."

"A vessel?" Hermione repeated. "A vessel for what?"

"As near as I can gather, some sort of reaper, or a psychopomp perhaps. Seems a bit poetic that someone has trapped it within a mourning effigy doll." he commented, eyes widening slightly as he read over the familiar scrawling on the parchment.

Severus discreetly tucked it into his pocket before the young woman returned to his side with her additional notes.

"You're saying that someone had the intention of capturing Death itself?" she frowned, furrowing her brows in confusion. "What, to keep mastery of who would be doomed to die?"

"More probably to keep someone _alive_. It seems unlikely that the base figure of Death could be captured, but one of his grunt reapers or ferrymen would not be out of the question if someone had the right… persuasions." Severus supposed.

"What would be the dangers of letting it free at this point? I would imagine that it would be vengeful."

"That seems an obvious deduction, Granger. The person who bound it in the first place would need to take back the enchantment and try to appease it somehow."

"Granger- _Weasley_ ," Hermione corrected, earning a roll of Severus' dark eyes to show that it hardly mattered to him. "Regardless, Wiltshire houses a huge population. How would we even know who to begin questioning?"

Severus floated the doll back to its resting place and delicately folded his hands in his lap. He gave a dismissive shrug as if to say he didn't know. There was someone he needed to question before he could be of any further assistance. The name written on the parchment gave him all the clue he needed to proceed:

 _Astoria Malfoy_.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Thanks much for all the patience and kind words during my absence. As a thank you, I've posted chapters two days in a row. Quite a lot has happened to stall the progression of writing (both good and bad), but I should be back to posting more regularly now. I would say that the story is about 2/3 of the way finished, but that is subject to change. I've just finished participating in G.I.S.H.W.H.E.S., and now that my brain has had a chance to settle down from all the silly, I think I can be a little more productive in writing. Again, thank you very much for your patience!_


	22. Chapter 22

"Are you _mad_? _Binding a reaper?"_ Severus admonished. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

Draco Malfoy stared sullenly into his ornate glass of fire whiskey, fingers tapping erratic patterns against the etched surface of the tumbler. He swallowed thickly. To all appearances, he hadn't slept in quite some time. In the face of being called out by his old mentor, the blonde fellow could only grimace through his pained thoughts.

" _Say_ something. I've been brought in as an expert by the Ministry to oversee this nonsense. Granger is working the same case, and she'll figure it out soon enough, too, now that she knows that the effigy is a vessel. What were you thinking, Draco?"

"She's dying, Severus!" Draco blurted finally. "Astoria. She's… the blood curse has gotten worse and worse. I put out a trap three years ago. I could feel it, I…"

He trailed off, staring into nothingness for a time. Only the soft crackle of a fire in the expansive fireplace broke into the heavy silence. It was several minutes before he could look up into Severus' eyes, grey meeting black.

"I tried to make a deal, but no matter how much money… no matter how many artifacts… it refused to leave her be. I put it in the doll and buried it in Stonehenge to bind it. I didn't know that it was reaper to the whole area. I didn't. But I can't just let it go! She'll die, and the baby…" Draco took a shuddering breath. "I love them. Both of them. I'm finally doing things right. I can't lose everything now, after all that's happened. Please. Just stall them for as long as you can. I'll figure it out somehow."

Severus shook his head in disbelief. How was he supposed to stall the Ministry? If word got out that he'd taken evidence from the mouth of the doll, he'd be in for enough trouble as it was. Draco looked positively haggard. Obviously if the reaper was released and Astoria died, the end of the Malfoy line was at hand. Lucius and Narcissa had enough difficulty in conceiving a child themselves. Draco was their miracle. The conflicting factors were difficult to bear.

"A reaper wouldn't harbor a want of material things. If you're going to barter, you need years. You would need to offer it years of someone else's life." Severus sighed. "You truly need to study the lore of these creatures _before_ attempting to trap them."

"Someone's years? Who's years? Mine? Some drifter, or-"

"Mine."

Draco stared, wide-eyed at his old professor. Severus Snape had been a friend of the Malfoy family for decades. He'd sacrificed dearly for them. How could he possibly ask this of someone? It wasn't just bearing secrets or protecting someone from danger, it was laying away their life! Hadn't he done enough? When the younger man opened his mouth to protest, Severus held up a pale hand for silence.

"I'm barely an asset to anyone anymore. I'm crippled at best, and-"

"And you're healing! You're getting better! Dammit, Severus, you aren't just a pawn! You have a chance at life now!" Draco interrupted. "I won't do it. I'll figure out something else."

"The doll is locked up at the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries. How do you propose to get in, let alone figure out something else?" Severus shook his head. "I'll make the deal when I return tomorrow."

There was no arguing with him at this point. Any reasoning which Draco brought up was quickly squashed down until the visit came to a close. If Severus stayed out any later, his absence would be questioned heavily at the clinic. Probably it already would be.

 _It's the right thing to do. There's only so much more I can do to better my life, so I might as well end it doing something that benefits my friends._

When the carriage cantered to a halt in front of the clinic, he was surprised, and a little unnerved, to see Madam McNair waiting to receive him at the door. Her foot tapped impatiently. A letter was clenched in her left hand, and he could see as he wheeled closer that it bore the Malfoy family seal.

Great.

He'd been told on.


End file.
